


The Things We Hide

by Songstress42



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-02-10 15:56:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 117,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2031087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Songstress42/pseuds/Songstress42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sam confronts Dean about his issues, Dean's latent feelings for Cas come to light. As well as a painful secret from Dean's past. Follows 7x07 'The Mentalists'. Rated for some swearing and references to rape. John Winchester bashing and eventual Destiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've already posted this over FF.net but I figured why not post it here too!
> 
> Enjoy!

_"Do you know an Eleanor or an Ellen?"_

_"She seems quite concerned for you. She wants to tell you, pardon me, 'If you don't tell someone how bad it really is, she'll kick your ass from beyond. You have to trust someone again eventually.'"_

…

He could still hear them, the words rattling around in his head as though Ellen herself had spoken them and not the creepy tour guide who had grabbed Dean's arm without his say so. No man grabbed Dean without his permission. Except Sam and Bobby and, until recently, Cas.

But he'd told Sam, told him about how he 'felt'. He had said enough to placate his brother, like he always did, so why were those words still rolling around in his head?

_How bad it really is._

_You have to trust someone again eventually._

Dean shifted and shook his head as though trying to wipe the thought away like an etch-a-sketch before his overly observant, pain in the ass, nosey little brother could catch on. She couldn't have meant that right? Not _that_. There was no way he was ever telling Sam about… _that_.

He felt eyes on him and glanced over to see Sam frowning at him.

"What?" he asked in his usual overly caustic tone that enhanced rather than hid the fact that everything was _not_ okay.

"Dean, are you okay?"

Words could not describe how much he hated being asked that question, especially by Sam, because he of all people ought to know that no, Dean was not 'okay'. Dean hadn't been 'okay' in years, decades. The last time Dean had truly been okay, his mother had been tucking him in, singing Hey Jude, and telling him that angels were watching over him.

So he did what he always did when asked that question: rolled his eyes and said in terse tones, "I'm fine, Sammy."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sam looking at him with his 'yeah right' face.

"Yeah right Dean." He said.

Dean's fists tightened on the steering wheel of the blue Dodge Challenger.

"Look, will you just drop it? I apologized for ganking Amy and I explained why. Isn't that enough?"

"No! Not when you look like you still got stuff to get off your chest."

_How bad it really is._

Dean could feel it. Everything. All the emotional crap that he'd spent his life pushing down wanting to rise up and spill out in a tidal wave of…feelings.

His hands shook where they clutched the steering wheel. He could feel his brother's gaze on him like a spotlight. He could hear that guy's voice in his head, although it was starting to sound more like Ellen now. He could hear Bobby telling him he was being an idjit for not dealing with his crap. He  
could see Cas’ eyes lit with the holy fire that surrounded him staring at Dean as though Dean had been the betrayer. He remembered his dad yelling, hitting, tearing him open…

The brakes squealed as Dean pulled the car onto the empty shoulder of the road and rushed out, slamming the door behind him as he stalked off towards the woods that lined the empty highway, feeling as though if he stayed any longer he would explode. Vaguely, he registered the sound of a car  
door slamming and heavy footfalls following him.

"Come on Dean, just talk to me!"

"I'm fine Sam, will you just let it go?!"

"No!" Sam caught up, grabbed Dean, and swung him round.

Dean threw Sam's hands off him but stayed facing his younger brother. He brought a hand up to rub at his tired eyes, dark circles evidence of his exhaustion. Sam did not need to be sharing a room with his brother to know that Dean was not sleeping well. Not that his brother ever slept well, but his usual four hours had diminished down to one or two over the past few months and Sam was at the end of his rope. Dean may be a stubborn jackass but Sam was cut from the same cloth as him and he was determined to get Dean to open up about what was bothering him. Even if he had to drag it from him.

"Dean, you need to talk about what's wrong," He ignored Dean's scoff, "You can't just ignore it and expect it to go away! You can't keep going on like this!"

"Of course I can Sammy," Dean retorted, "I've been doing it my whole damn life!"

Sam let out a frustrated sigh and ran his hands through his hair.

"Well, maybe that's the problem."

Dean's face screwed up into a look of confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam sighed.

"Just that, maybe if you actually talked about what’s going on instead of ignoring it, you might end up feeling better for once."

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Please Sam, no chick flick moments."

It was Sam's turn to roll his eyes.

"What about when you came back from hell." Dean pinned him with a dark look and Sam knew he was walking on thin ice. "Just, when you came back and you were drinking a lot and having nightmares and then you finally talked about it and it seemed to get better right?"

Dean's look was still dark but Sam could see he was at least considering his words. Dean sighed and brought his hand to his mouth as he thought about what his brother was saying.

Dammit! Why'd Sammy have to be so smart and logical all the time it was fucking annoying as hell!

As Sam continued to glare at him with his patented bitch face, Dean felt the weight of the past few, well, decades settle on his shoulders and weigh him down. He felt exhausted. Not only physically, but mentally. This is why he didn't confront his demons, they were so many and not the type that were  
easily taken care of with a simple exorcism or an introduction to Ruby's knife. These were the types of demons Dean was really, truly afraid of; the ones he couldn't fight.

Sam cut off his train of thought with two quiet words.

"Please Dean."

Dean looked up at his brother to find that Sam's bitch face had been replaced by his pleading face. It was the face that meant Dean would be sleeping on the couch because the motel room Dad got only had two beds or that Dean would be going without supper because there was only enough food left for  
one of them. It was the face that Dean could not say no to thanks to the endless mantra of _look after  
Sam, keep Sam safe_ that echoed in his head in their dad’s voice. It was the central tenet of his existence and had been ever since the night John Winchester handed the six-month-old Sam to the four-year-old Dean and told him to _take your brother and go!_

Dean sighed again, deflating under the combined weight of his thoughts and Sam's powers of persuasion and moved to lean against this week's car, pulling the silver flask from his pocket and taking a long pull. If he was going to have this conversation, he was going to need some help from an old  
friend.

Sam moved to his brother's side, at once happy and terrified. Glad that his brother had finally agreed to open up and scared about what was going to come of it. He had a feeling that getting Dean to open up was going to be like opening the Ark of the Covenant: they may not escape this unscathed.

Dean fiddled with the flask, his hands keeping busy as his mind decided what to say.

He cleared his throat.

"Umm, I don't really know how–where to start."

Sam nodded.

"Right, well…okay how about…well you mentioned Cas before." Dean's wince at the mention of the fallen angel did not escape Sam's notice. "How about we start with how you feel about what happened."

Dean glared at Sam and it took every ounce of his will power not to roll his eyes, scoff out a thinly veiled homophobic remark, and make a beeline for the nearest bar to drink away his feelings like he was taught to do by his father. Instead, he cleared his throat and looked off into the forest that surrounded them and thought back to the angel whose coat sat folded in the trunk of the blue Dodge. He hadn't been able to leave it behind when they'd had to ditch his baby.

"How do I feel?" He asked with a bitter laugh, trying to mask the fact that a lump was forming in his throat, "I dunno. Just between him betraying us and trying to be God, breaking your wall and then  
walking into that reservoir. I mean…I know that he was sorry for what he did. I could see it in his eyes at the end. But that doesn't change how painful it was…how betrayed I felt. It was like you and Ruby all over again you know?"

Sam felt a strong jolt of shame at the mention of his actions from three years before.

Dean felt hot tears burning, threatening to overflow but he was damned if he was going to cry like a girl. He swallowed and cleared his throat not daring to look at his brother, not daring to let him see this weakness.

"Dean?" Sam asked quietly, "Did…"

He trailed off, biting his lip and hoping that what he was about to say wouldn't send his emotionally constipated brother running.

"Were you…in love…with Cas?"

Sam felt Dean stiffen beside him and he snuck a sidelong glance at his brother.

Dean was frozen in what Sam might describe as fear had he not known his brother as well as he did.

"Dean?" Sam asked when his brother stayed silent.

"I…" Dean began to speak but trailed off his breaths coming in shorter and shorter gasps.

Sam brought his hand up to rest on Dean's shoulder but as soon as he made contact Dean jolted and began backing away from Sam and around the car in a frantic scramble, stopping with his hands planted on the hood, breath coming too quickly and eyes too wide. Sam could see that Dean was well and  
truly terrified. His brother, who had been hunting monsters since before he was old enough to hold a gun, was shaking in fear.

He held his hands out in a pacifying gesture and began to move slowly toward his brother.

"Dean, it's alright."

Dean closed his eyes and tried desperately to calm his erratic breathing as a few tears fell unbidden from his eyes. He heard Sam moving slowly towards him and he looked over and met his brother’s gaze, which was creased in worry, and no wonder since apparently Dean was falling apart right before his eyes.

"It's okay."

Dean closed his eyes again, this time in building anger.

"No it's not," he growled in frustration as he tried desperately to control himself.

"Yes it is." Sam said firmly and reached out to him.

  
Dean once again threw his arm off and stalked away a few feet, his back turned to his brother.

"Dean whatever you're afraid of, it doesn't matter to me. I don't care if you had feelings for Cas, or any other guy for that matter! You're still my brother and I love you!"

Dean stood still, shoulders hunched, arms still wrapped around himself.

"It's not okay," he said in a voice so soft Sam almost didn't hear it.

He turned and Sam could see that he was no longer angry. Sam stared at his big brother, the person who had always been there for him even when he did not want or deserve it, the person who had practically raised him, and realized that he had never seen him look so small or so scared.

Sam moved forwards and once again reached out for his brother. This time Dean let him.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Dean swallowed and closed his eyes, shaking his head.

Sam sighed and tried to imagine what Dean might be thinking. Obviously, the sudden emergence of homosexual urges from someone as straight as Dean would be traumatic. But Sam couldn't figure out why Dean was so terrified of the prospect of having feelings for another guy. Furthermore, though Sam may have been the more open and emotionally healthy one of the two brothers, he never imagined in his wildest dreams that he would be having this conversation with his older brother and he didn't exactly know where to start.

Sam swallowed. It didn't matter how he felt. All that mattered was helping Dean.

"Look Dean, It doesn't matter alright? It doesn't matter to me if you had feelings for Cas. Or any guy. I don't think any less of you, I know Bobby wouldn't care and I'm sure Dad—" At the mention of John  
Winchester, Dean's eyes snapped open and his fearful glance told Sam that he'd hit a nerve. "Is this about what Dad would think?" Dean swallowed and looked away, "Because I'm sure he would have loved you just the same."

Dean closed his eyes again and his voice was so quiet Sam nearly missed it.

"He didn't."

At Dean's words, a cold chill settled uncomfortably in Sam's stomach.

"What do you mean he didn't?"

Dean's expression told Sam that his big brother had hoped Sam hadn't heard what he'd just said. But both brothers knew the cat was out of the bag and there was no way Sam was letting this go. Not until he'd gotten the truth. Dean let out a bone-weary sigh and moved back towards the car, turning  
when he reached it and settling in the dirt, leaning back against it. Sam followed and sat next to his brother; close enough to give support but not so close that Dean would feel smothered.

The two men sat in silence as Dean gathered the strength to reveal one of his most closely guarded secrets and Sam gave his brother the time he needed.

"My um…feelings…for Cas…aren't the first I've had for…a guy." Dean began slowly, avoiding eye contact with his brother. "When I was I guess ten or eleven, I found myself…drawn to certain guys, on TV or at  
school. At first, I didn't really understand what it was or what it meant. I mean, there wasn't much in the way of education, and Dad well…" Dean trailed off, his fingers digging in the earth at his side, pulling up tufts of grass and shredding them.

"Slowly, I guess through TV and general gut instinct, I started to figure out what those…tendencies meant." Dean chuckled darkly, "I'd never been so terrified and alone when I finally realized that I  
was…" Dean trailed off again, the word caught in his throat. Still after all these years, he couldn't vocalize it. His secret, hidden deep down, buried in a vain belief that if it could be ignored and forgotten it would go away. He took a shuddering breath and sniffed, wiping another errant tear away.

"You remember when we were living in Ohio? In '94? I was fifteen, you were twelve?"

Sam nodded, they had settled down in Milford, just outside of Cincinnati and he'd enjoyed living there until John had abruptly announced they were leaving one evening a few months in.

"There was this guy at the school there. A senior. Mike Oberman. He and I…I guess we were going through the same thing. We hung out a lot. You were starting to…resent my hovering; you'd go the library after school or to a friend's house so I ended up alone with Mike a lot. Neither of us  
really knew what we were doing or feeling, but it was nice not to feel so alone."

Sam could see fondness in his brother's eyes as he talked about Mike, his lips twitched as though he wanted to smile.

"Then one day, Dad came home unexpectedly. He was supposed to be away on a hunt but he'd managed to wrap it up early and he walked in on Mike and me…" Dean swallowed, his breath quickening as he relived the memory. "We were just making out, but Dad…he freaked. At first, he was  
angry, yelling and throwing stuff. Mike got out of there fast, I never saw him again after that. Then he just stopped and he got real quiet. He asked where you were and when I said at a friend’s house…he said 'so you're ditching out on your duty of taking care of your brother to go whoring around with the local faggots?' And then he just kept at it. Calling me every name he could think of, saying he raised me to be a man, not some faggot-fairy," Dean’s voice began to break, "Saying mom would be ashamed of me and for once he was glad she was dead so she didn't have to see what her son turned out to be."

Sam had his head in his hands, hating John Winchester more than he ever had during his time at Stanford but at the mention of Mary, Sam turned to Dean and grabbed his shoulder.

"That's bullshit! You know that! Mom would never be ashamed of you, of either of us, for something like that! Dad was just an asshole. A giant, worthless asshole who ruined our lives by dragging us along on his personal vendetta against the monster who killed his wife, all the while ignoring the only things he had left of her, us!"

Dean continued to stare at the ground as Sam tried to reason with him. The problem was though, that despite the truth in Sam's words, Dean could not let go of the shame and guilt that those words of John's had burnt into his soul, shame and guilt he still carried with him.

Sam sighed and leant back against the car. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean fidgeting, as though he had more to say. Sam turned his gaze back to his brother.

"Did he do anything else?"

Dean's fearful gaze verified his suspicions.

Sam sat up and turned to Dean.

"What? What did he do?"

Dean swallowed and shuffled a few inches away from Sam's crowding form.

"He…after he was through calling me every name he could think of, he left. He was gone a couple of hours and when he got back…It was obvious he'd been to the bar. He stumbled in and I was still sitting on the couch, I'd been there the whole time he'd been gone. I turned and he had this look in his eyes and I got scared. Real scared Sammy." Dean's gaze was far away and his voice was quiet, "He grabbed me and dragged me to the bedroom and threw me down on the bed," Dean swallowed, "and he said…" Dean licked his trembling lips as his mouth went dry, "He said that if that's what I wanted then that's what I'd get."

Both brothers were silent as Sam tried to come to terms with the implications of what Dean had revealed.

"Dean are you saying that Dad…that he…"

Dean sat with elbows resting on bended knees, his hands in his hair, unable to look at his brother as shame painted his features red.

"It was so painful Sammy." Sam had never heard his brother sound so young, so lost, "It felt like I was being torn apart from the inside. Forty years in hell can't compare to it."

Sam felt like throwing up. He had never gotten along well with his father but never would he have thought the man capable of this. Hesitantly he reached out a hand to rest on Dean's shoulder. His brother stiffened but did not throw him off.

"Dean…" Sam trailed off, not knowing what to say. He could feel his brother's strong form shaking violently under his hand and he gave a gentle tug. Dean lowered his hand enough to cast a hesitant glance at his brother.

"I'm sorry." Sam offered lamely, not knowing what else to say. He added, "I'm glad you told me."

Dean's expression screwed up into one of confusion.

"Why?" he asked almost silently.

"Because you're my brother, and I love you."

Dean let out a half-hearted snort of laughter.

"I thought I said no chick-flick moments." he replied in a trembling voice.

"Oh I think we're way beyond that." Sam threw back and was pleased that it had the desired effect of pushing his brother's shaky mirth into half-hearted laughter, until that laughter devolved into tears.

Sam once again tugged on his brother's shoulder until he willingly slid sideways into Sam's embrace, and tears that he had been holding in for nearly twenty years flooded forth. Sam sat and held his brother as Dean grieved for the last shred of innocence that their father had brutally ripped from him.

…

When Dean's sobs eventually died down, Sam helped him to his feet and guided him to the passenger side door. It was disturbing how submissive his normally recalcitrant brother was but at least it made getting him into the car easier.

It wasn't until they were back on the main road that Dean became aware enough of his surroundings to ask, "Where are we going?"

"The cabin" Sam said, glancing sideways to gauge Dean's reaction. He hoped he wouldn't have to drag Dean there. Dean could be a stubborn son-of-a-bitch when he wanted to. But he merely shrugged and leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes, the exhaustion finally catching up to him.

Dean's apathy scared Sam more than anything else. He was used to butting heads with a brother who was as stubborn as a particularly obstinate mule. He was used to fighting tooth and nail for his way.

He was not used to Dean just giving in.

They definitely needed Bobby for this.


	2. Chapter 2

Bobby was knee deep in dead end Leviathan research when the boys showed up. It always sent up a red flag when they showed up without calling ahead of time. He scrutinized the brothers as they entered the cabin and he exchanged terse pleasantries with them. Or with Sam at least. Bobby watched as the younger Winchester pocketed the car keys. 

 

Sam had been driving.

Dean never let Sam drive.

Sam himself looked particularly worried as he ushered his unusually quiet brother into the building.

Bobby watched the older Winchester. His normally animated face was blank. Like some part of his personality was…absent.

Bobby ground his teeth. The hunter's life was not an easy one. Horrors were part of the everyday in lives like theirs. Dean's approach had always been to push away anything he did not want to deal with and then drink heavily whenever those issues reared their ugly heads.

It looked like one of those issues had finally gotten the better of Dean Winchester.

He made eye contact with the boy but his green eyes were dull and closed off. After a few moments, Dean turned his head and stalked off to the bedrooms.

Bobby approached Sam where he had dropped their bags on the table and was busy unloading.

"What in the hell happened?" he asked.

Sam's shoulders stiffened and he turned to Bobby, his hazel eyes full of pain and sorrow.

"It's Dean's story to tell." He said simply, turning back to the bag.

When Dean finally reemerged, Bobby took one look at him, cracked open the whisky, and turned on the TV. Didn't ask questions, didn't push or pry, just let Dean sit and be, knowing that the stubborn hunter would open up when he was good and ready. And when that time came, Bobby would be there to listen and give what advice was needed and affectionately call him an idjit.

As it turned out, it only took five days for Dean to approach Bobby.

…

Bobby was outside chopping wood when Dean sauntered out of the cabin clutching a bottle of beer like it was a lifeline and loitering in his peripheral vision. Bobby gave him a couple of minutes but when Dean didn't offer up anything, he sunk his axe down into the stump and turned to face the man he'd come to see as his own son.

"One of those had better be for me." He said, gesturing to the six-pack-minus-one that sat on the ground beside Dean. Dean looked down and nodded, grabbing a bottle and handing it to the old hunter. Bobby popped off the cap as they both settled side-by-side on the ground, leaning back against the outer wall of the cabin. He took a pull from the bottle and cleared his throat.

"So, you gonna talk or are we just gonna sit and look at the pretty scenery?"

Dean worried his bottom lip as he played with the bottle in his grasp, twisting it around and pulling at the label.

"Talk about what?"

Bobby rolled his eyes.

"Whatever it is that brought you and Sam here near a week ago. Whatever it is that's got you looking like the last puppy left in the store."

Dean glared at the chosen simile but kept his mouth firmly shut. Goddamn but that boy was stubborn.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with losing Cas would it?"

 

Beside him, he felt Dean stiffen and smiled to himself, now they were getting somewhere. When he looked over, Dean was digging into the dirt around his feet.

"Have you finally come to your senses and realized just how much you cared for him?"

Dean's head shot up.

"You knew?!"

Bobby snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Well I got eyes don't I?"

Dean looked down again and, after a few seconds, asked, almost inaudibly.

"And you…you're…okay with that?"

Bobby shrugged.

"Doesn't much matter to me who you love. Guy, girl, Angel of the freakin' Lord. Just so long as you're happy Dean."

To his surprise, Dean didn’t scoff at the sappy words and stalk off to tinker with the blue muscle car they'd pulled up in. Instead, Bobby watched as tears welled up in the boy's eyes and he began to sense that this went deeper than a sexual crisis over his feelings for Castiel.

"Dean, what is it?" he asked, his voice softer than even he thought possible.

Dean was holding on by a thread, his entire body shaking with the effort of keeping the tears at bay.

"S-so…you wouldn't…you wouldn't care if I was…if I were g…gay?" the last word came out so softly that Bobby nearly didn't catch them. Dean turned his head and his eyes held such fear and pain. There was only one person who could instill this much fear in Dean.

"Of course not Dean. Hell, there's so much shit we got to deal with in this life of ours it seems stupid to care about something like that." He brought a hand up to rest on Dean's shoulder. "I consider you my son Dean, and I love you. No matter what."

Those were the words that finally broke the hunter. Bobby pulled the boy towards him into a one armed hug; letting him cry onto his shoulder like he had when Sam died. Dean cried for a good five minutes and when his sobs finally died down Bobby thought that would be the end of it.

Turned out, he was wrong.

"Dad cared."

The words sent a spike of cold fear through the belly of the gruff hunter. John Winchester had been a good man, a good hunter, but he had had his blind spots and a raging temper, especially when he'd been drinking, had been a particularly bad one.

"What'd he do Dean?"

Bobby could see Dean's hands shaking and clutching the bottle of beer until they were white. He shot up suddenly, pacing back and forth erratically.

Bobby hauled himself to his feet, cursing his age as his back twinged and knees creaked. Once he was up, he put a hand on Dean's shoulder, ceasing the nauseating movement.

"Hey, hey boy it's alright."

Dean's green eyes rose to meet Bobby's and Bobby was shocked at the depth of pain he saw in them. The shoulder on which his hand rested was rising and falling with Dean's rapidly increasing breaths.

"It's okay." Bobby said emphatically. Slowly the breathing evened out and the fear in his eyes faded, replaced by embarrassment and shame.

Dean ducked his head and moved away, shrugging out of Bobby's grasp.

"Sorry." He said quietly, turning and stalking toward the cabin.w

"Dean!" Bobby yelled as he heard the front door slam, "Balls!"

…

Sam looked up from his book when Dean threw open the front door and stormed in looking panicked and afraid. Bobby followed shortly.

"Dean."

"No!" Dean turned and held up a hand, his fear shifting seamlessly into anger.

"Dean." Sam said softly, standing slowly, "It's alright."

"Shut up Sam! Bobby, I don't want to talk about it! I'm not ready alright?!"

"That's fine Dean." Sam said, watching as his brother's ire cooled, "But you know you're going to have to tell Bobby eventually."

Dean glared at his brother and then collapsed on the sofa his head in his hands, his fingers tightening in his hair. Sam moved to sit beside him and Bobby plunked himself down on the coffee table, both a respectable distance away from the agitated hunter.

Dean shook his head.

"I can't Sammy, I can't say it." His anger had died and all that was left was exhaustion and fear and pain clouding his bright green eyes and darkening the circles beneath them.

Sam sighed and caught Bobby's eye.

"Can you tell him?"

The question was asked so quietly Sam nearly didn't hear it but when he looked to where his brother was huddled against the corner of the sofa, he could see pleading in Dean’s green eyes. Dean never asked for help, never asked for anything for himself.

"What? Are-are you sure?"

Dean swallowed, getting slowly to his feet, his arms snaking around his torso in a protective gesture that was so different from his usual brash bravado. He nodded.

"I just…I just can't Sammy."

And with that he fled the room.

Sam sighed and turned back to Bobby who was glancing between him and the door Dean had just disappeared behind with growing concern in his eyes.

"How far did you get?"

"We talked about Cas and then he mentioned something about your dad."

Sam shook his head and ground his teeth. He'd never seen John Winchester as the great hero that Dean always had. He'd seen him as an obsessive bastard who would rather spend his time seeking revenge for his wife's death than provide a good and stable home for his sons. Still, the man had sacrificed himself to save Dean's life and Sam had spent the last six years trying to honour his father's memory.

But now…now everything was different. Sam had never had the blind faith in his father that Dean had, the unwavering belief that John Winchester knew everything, that John Winchester was invincible. Where Dean had seen their dad's strengths, Sam had seen his weaknesses: his obsession, his temper, and his drinking.

Their father had been a mean drunk. Never violent, at least not to Sam, but angry. When he drank, he raved and broke things. One time he had even gotten a hold of one of his guns and let off a shot before Dean had managed to disarm him. Sam had no illusions that his father had been a saint, but he'd at least buried the man believing he had been a good person who loved his sons in his own way.

Sam sighed again and leaned forwards.

"When Dean was fifteen, Dad caught him kissing another boy."

Bobby shook his head and adjusted the ever-present baseball cap.

"I take it he didn't react well."

Sam looked up into the old hunter's eyes.

"He yelled at Dean, called him weak. Said he wasn't a man. That mom would have been ashamed of him. And then…"

Sam cut off, swallowing against the catch that had developed in his throat. He stood, a sudden burst of nervous energy catapulting him from the sofa and sending him pacing around the small cabin room.

"Then he went out, got drunk, came back, and raped Dean. To teach him a lesson."

The words burst from him in a rush as the nervousness coalesced into blinding fury. Fury at his father for what he’d done and fury at the memory of his brother, his big brother, who had always been the strongest person Sam knew, his brother crying and trembling in his arms as he relived what their father had done to him. John Winchester had achieved what every demon and monster he'd ever come across couldn't. He had brought Dean to his knees and broken him.

He looked over to see Bobby sitting stock still on the coffee table, his expression mirroring the anger Sam was feeling.

"That son of a bitch!" he said quietly but emphatically, standing and making a beeline for the door behind which Dean had disappeared.

"Now you listen here." He said, opening the door and moving to sit on Sam's bed opposite where Dean sat on his own, leaning back against the headboard. Sam followed. His brother jumped at Bobby's entrance and inched away from the man, "Your dad may have been a great hunter and a good father in the beginning but let me tell you something about living with abuse boy. It sneaks up on you and it's too damn easy to just give in and accept it, to let it become just another crappy part of your crappy life. But it don't gotta be that way. Now I'm gonna tell you something Dean and you need to believe that I am telling the truth. Do you trust me?"

Dean seemed too shocked to speak.

"Do you trust me Dean to always tell you the honest to god truth?"

Sam looked at his brother looking at Bobby. He seemed…young. Dean had never looked young to Sam, not even when they were little, and not just because he was older, but because his brother had always been the one to take care of him; the parent, more than John had ever been. But here and now Sam tried to remember Dean at fifteen. Not the cocky, jaded persona he'd put on to protect himself, but the boy on the verge of becoming a man, alone and confused about an emerging sexuality that he wasn't expecting and didn't understand. Sam remembered his own puberty, the feelings, the desires. Looking at him now, Sam could see that boy shining out through his striking green eyes; the boy he'd always been even when he was clothing and feeding Sam at the age of six or hunting at the age of ten. And he saw the teenager, desperate for some sign that he wasn't totally and completely alone, latching onto the first person to come along who understood, and then having it so violently ripped away from him by the man he trusted the most.

Sam felt his heart break for his brother and then swell with pride at the thought of how strong he was to have survived it.

Dean, who was looking unblinkingly at Bobby, nodded. Of course he trusted him.

"You did not deserve what that bastard did. You are not responsible for the fact that he was an abusive jackass, and you are not any weaker because of it."

Bobby's gaze seemed to pierce through Dean, to shine a spotlight on every twisted insecurity he had surrounding the painful memory. He wanted to run away from those words, to go back to the way he had been because at least self-loathing was familiar territory and a hell of a lot easier than seeing John Winchester as anything other than a God in his eyes. Sure his dad had been a bastard, but Dean had been his good little soldier for almost as long as he could remember. It was who he was and if he tore that down then what would be left? Dean feared that if he tried, the answer would turn out to be nothing.

"Do you hear me boy?" Bobby asked.

Sam moved to sit on Dean's bed.

"Bobby's right Dean. What Dad did…it was wrong, so wrong. Pure and simple."

Dean lowered his gaze, pulling at the loose threads of the quilt that covered his bed and nodded.

"Yeah, I know."

Sam sighed and he and Bobby eyed each other, silently agreeing that that was all they were likely to get out of Dean. At least it was something.

"Well, I'm going to go see if I can scrounge up something for dinner." Sam said, standing and leaving Dean and Bobby alone. Bobby moved over to Dean's bed and sat beside him, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"You alright?"

Dean raised his head and wiped away an errant tear that had begun to trickle down his cheek.

"Yeah." He said, his voice rough and husky from trying to hold back tears.

Bobby grunted and slung an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close.

"I meant what I said earlier, I'm damn proud of you Dean."

Bobby stood, letting his hand rest for a moment on Dean's shoulder. He squeezed tightly and then left to help Sam prepare some semblance of dinner, allowing Dean some time alone.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one takes place before 7x08. No Cas but he will be in the next one I promise.…
> 
> Enjoy!

"So are you like…gay?"

Dean nearly choked on the burger he'd just bitten into when Sam came out with his non sequitur. He coughed and hacked for a few moments before he managed to take a breath and swallow properly.

Sam waited patiently for his brother to regain the power of breathing and ruminated that maybe such a direct approach to breeching the subject of Dean's sexuality hadn't been as good idea as he'd thought.

Dean cleared his throat and glared at his brother sitting across from him at the crappy diner table. They were on their way to Vegas for their annual pilgrimage and had stopped off for sustenance.

"What?" He asked, his voice still raspy from the coughing fit and his tone dangerous; warning Sam to tread carefully.

Sam shrugged; clearly uncomfortable by the line of questioning he'd just started.

"Well, I mean…all the women you've been with. Was that just…overcompensating or are you actually attracted to women and men?"

Dean stared at his little brother with his I can't believe you want to have this conversation look.

"Really Sammy? You wanna do this now?"

Sam shrugged.

"What, I'm curious."

Dean sighed and set the burger back on the plate, leaning back in the booth and wiping his mouth on a napkin. He glanced out of the window and shrugged.

"I don't know. After dad…" Dean stopped and cleared his throat, "I was really confused. Scared." His gaze dropped to his hands where they began shredding the paper napkin, "I kept having all these…feelings for guys. I didn't know what to do. It made me angry."

"At dad?" Sam asked.

Dean looked up into his brother's eyes.

"At myself."

Sam frowned.

"Why?"

Dean shook his head and shrugged again.

"I don't know, because I couldn't control it. I didn't want those feelings and it felt like…my body betraying me you know."

Dean paused.

"Then there was this girl…Robin. She was nice, pretty, interesting. She kissed me and at first I was so scared and confused. But it was nice and I enjoyed it and I figured hey, if I like guys and girls then maybe I could just focus on the girls and everything would be fine you know? Girls are…safe. And I could prove to dad that I wasn't…that it was just a phase and everything would be fine."

Sam nodded.

"So you're bi?"

Dean shrugged.

"I dunno. I guess." Dean felt a blush creep up his neck to heat his face. He'd never thought of his sexuality in those terms, preferring instead to ignore any urges towards his own gender in favour of those towards the opposite. He and Sam had never had to define their sexualities; at least not to each other. But now, with the cat out of the bag, it felt oddly…satisfying to label it, it made the whole subject seem less intimidating somehow.

"Now can we drop this conversation before one of us grows a uterus?"

He went back to his food but out of the corner of his eye he could see that Sam still had his I have questions expression on. Dean chose to ignore it.

"Hey Dean."

Dean sighed.

"What is it Sam?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably and Dean tensed. His brother had that look about him like he was going to ask something personal about Dean. More personal than his perceived sexuality that was.

"What?"

"Did Dad ever…do anything else? To you?"

Dean's insides went cold.

"Why? Did he do something to you? He didn't hit you did he?!"

"What? No! No dad never hurt me."

Dean let out a sigh of relief.

Sam looked at his brother, gauging his reaction.

"Did he hit you?"

Dean didn't need to answer; the look in his eyes was all the confirmation Sam needed.

"He did, didn't he?!"

"Sam."

"When? How often?"

"Sam!"

His brother's terse voice silenced him and Sam closed his mouth staring at Dean's tired face. The other diner patrons were starting to look their way and Dean threw down some money before dragging his enraged brother out of the eatery and over to the blue dodge.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the two brothers as they settled against the hood.

Dean bit his lip and looked down and away. He never wanted to have this conversation with Sam, never wanted his brother to know the truth about their father: that the rape hadn't been a one off thing because his dad had been drunk and disappointed in Dean. That Dean had gladly taken every beating his dad ever dished out because at least when John Winchester was hitting Dean he wasn't hitting Sam. It was a huge relief to know that his sacrifice hadn't been in vain.

"Dean."

Sam's voice was soft and sad.

"How many times did dad hit you?"

Dean steeled his features into an emotionless mask and looked back up at his brother.

"Just drop it Sammy, It's not important."

Sam's face screwed up in anger.

"Not important?! You think it's not important that dad hit you?! That he abused you?!"

"No." Dean confirmed, "It's not important."

"Why?!"

"Because I did it for you!"

Sam looked like he'd been slapped in the face.

"So this is my fault?"

"What? No! That's not what I meant. What I meant was that-"

"That your safety is somehow less important than mine?"

Dean didn't answer and Sam threw up his hands, his frustration with his brother's martyr complex propelling him off the hood of the car. He paced, hands running through his hair and across his face as he tried to think of a way to convince his brother that his life did have worth no matter what their dad may have beaten into him.

"Sam."

Sam ignored his brother as he continued pacing.

"Sam!"

"What?!"

Sam spun around to face his brother. Dean gestured to his side with his head and Sam huffed but leaned back against the car beside Dean.

"When I said I did it for you," Dean began, "I didn't mean I blamed you."

Sam started to calm down as he listened to his brother’s explanation.

"I just meant that…I had to look out for you all right? That was my job. That's always been my job. To protect you, even from dad. And if that meant taking the beatings dad dished out then so be it. If I had it to do over again I'd do exactly the same thing."

Sam felt his frustration growing again.

"Yeah but I don't want you to put yourself in harms way just to protect me Dean. I never asked you to do that."

"It was never a question of you asking Sammy. It was my job as your older brother."

Sam sighed. They had come to this impasse so many times before.

"Am I the reason you stayed?"

Dean frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Sam shifted.

"After what dad did to you. I mean, you could have left, gotten yourself away from him. Did you stay for me?"

Dean leaned back.

"I didn't want him to do to you what he did to me."

Sam sighed and scrubbed at his eyes with his hands. A thought occurred to him.

"Did dad hit you when I ran away from Flagstaff?"

"Sam."

"Did he hit you?"

Dean's silence was all the confirmation Sam needed. Shit. No wonder Dean had seemed so upset at seeing the memory when they were in heaven. Knowing that one of Sam's happiest moment resulted in one of Dean's worst.

"Dean I am so sor-"

"Don't you dare apologize."

Sam's hazel eyes met Dean's green. Both were glistening with unshed tears. Sam nodded, his jaw clenching in an effort to keep from weeping.

Silently they got back in the car.

They had said all they needed to say.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: None of the dialogue is mine. I took it directly from the episode apart from one line so the dialogue isn’t mine, just the sub-text.
> 
> Enjoy!

Hellish light flickered and spat in sparks as Dean rammed Ruby’s knife deep into the Demon’s gut, before fading. He shoved the body back and it fell, its dead-weight tumbling down the front steps. Dean watched in satisfaction as the body landed and ceased to move. It always gave him a great sense of relief to dispatch the scum of the supernatural world back to whatever hell they’d clawed their way out of. It had been the centre of his world for almost as long as he could remember and no matter how dark or screwed up things got, at least he had this to remind him that he could still do some good for this world. 

It took him a millisecond to notice that, where the demon had landed, were two feet. His eyes travelled upwards as he took in the figure of the person who had just witnessed him ostensibly killing a guy.

His heart stopped when his eyes reached the figure’s face. 

It was a face that featured prominently in his dreams, both pleasurable and nightmarish, and one which he had never expected to see again. The eyes seemed bluer than he’d remembered.

Dean stared, unable to move past the revelation that Cas was alive. Cas was _alive._ _Cas._

He opened his mouth but nothing came out. He wanted to move forward, to shout the angel’s name, to hold him and know he was real and solid, and then to shoot him for his unbelievably bad decisions. After all, he was an angel, he should have known better. Dean wanted to ask him how he’d survived the reservoir, where he’d been, why he hadn’t come back…

Dean’s heart lurched painfully. He couldn’t believe it. He’d watched Castiel walk into that reservoir, had seen him sink beneath the placid surface and not come back.

But here he was staring up at Dean with those same blue eyes and oh God time had not exaggerated his features in Dean’s mind at all. The skin around the eyes creased in confusion, which was so…Cas, but it was underscored with something he had very rarely, if ever, seen in those expressive, blue eyes: fear. 

Dean started. This man was afraid, afraid of the demon, afraid of seeing Dean killing it. But Castiel was an angel, a soldier of God who had seen battle, death, hell he had smote thousands during his stint as God. So why was he now so skittish at the sight of one more dead monster.

“What was that?”

Dean stared. Was this a joke? If it wasn’t for the fact that Cas’ sense of humor was not nearly developed enough to pull something like this off, he might have been inclined to believe it. He stared at the man standing at the foot of the stairs staring back up at him. This _was_ Cas, definitely Cas. So why didn’t he know what a demon was when he saw one? Dean opened his mouth but no words came out. What was he supposed to say? 

Suddenly, Cas started.

“Daphne!” he breathed and rushed up the steps, pushing past Dean in his haste to enter the house. 

As his shoulder made contact with Dean’s chest, the hunter felt the usual swell of feeling and emotion well up inside him, as it always did when he was near to the angel. Dean closed his eyes and inhaled, breathing in the angel’s scent. He smelled the same as he always had; like air and earth and lightening. He breathed it in, recalling all the times Cas had appeared by his side, crowding into Dean’s space with no regard for personal boundaries and intoxicating Dean with his scent. His nerves sang in delight where the angel had brushed by him, knocked breathless by the brief contact. 

Dean stood for a moment frozen while his brain attempted to sort through the sensory overload when one thing pushed its way to the forefront of his mind.

_Daphne. Daphne?_

And that’s when his stalled brain restarted and Dean felt like he had been kicked in the gut. 

Emmanuel. 

Mysterious healer guy. 

Sam’s only hope. 

His wife Daphne.

Dean looked at the house into which Cas had disappeared. There had been no recognition in his eyes when he had looked up at Dean.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Dean muttered angrily as he followed the angel inside. Could he not just once catch a break?

…

Dean loitered as Cas/Emmanuel untied Daphne and helped her up, fawning over her and asking if she was all right. As Dean watched the exchange he felt…something growing in his gut, a painful pressure that squeezed at his insides at the sight of this person who looked like Cas but wasn’t and this…woman who was touching him like she had the right. A surge of…anger? Jealousy? Pain? Rose up inside Dean at the sight of them holding hands; touching, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes. 

Cas had once looked at Dean that way.

Emmanucas had turned from his wife and was now approaching Dean, drawing the woman along with him. Dean spared a glance for their clasped hands. It hadn’t been that long had it? Even if Cas – Emmanuel – had been resurrected or whatever immediately after walking into the reservoir they could only have know each other ten months. Ire rose in Dean at the thought of this woman taking advantage of a vulnerable and possibly amnesic Castiel.

“I am Emmanuel.” He said, extending his hand.

Dean stared at it. When did Cas learn about human social signals? Dan reached for it, feeling like he was falling further and further down the rabbit hole.

“Dean.” He said, “I’m Dean.”

“Thank you for protecting my wife.”

Even though Dean had already surmised that Daphne was Emmanuel’s wife, hearing him say it out loud was like a cymbal crash in his head. This was wrong, so very, very wrong. Cas wasn’t supposed to be just some other person living in Colorado and married to some random woman. He was supposed to be with Dean and Sam, popping in on occasion, accompanying them on hunts, frowning on confusion and incomprehension at Dean’s pop culture references. Dean should be the one teaching Cas about shaking hands not this…floozy.

“Your wife.” He answered weakly as his brain swam in ever growing overwhelming confusion. “Right.”

“I saw his face, his real face.”

Dean felt like his brain had stalled again.

“He was a demon.”

How much had he forgotten?

“A demon walked the earth.”

The fear inside Dean was rising steadily.

“Demons, whackloads of ‘em. You don’t know about-”

The look of utter incomprehension on the face of the man who had once faced down the king of hell and the leader of the archangels, the face of the man who had once been his friend, best friend, finally drove the nail home.

Cas wasn’t pretending or ignoring him or playing a joke on him – not that Dean thought any of those scenarios was the least bit likely – he truly didn’t remember anything.

Dean felt a terrible sense of loneliness settle on his shoulders at the blank look in his friend’s eyes.

Perhaps it was better this way.

Cas could go on living this idyllic little life, healing people, doing good, ignorant of the pain and suffering he’d cause. And Dean found himself wanting that for him, just as he wanted it for Sam. Free from the pain and burden of knowledge that this life brought with it; to live in blissful ignorance.

“You saw the demon’s true face.” Daphne was saying before turning to Dean, “Emmanuel has very special gifts.”

Dean nodded.

“Yeah, I’ve ah heard that about…Emmanuel.” He fixed the man with his gaze, “That you can heal people up.”

There seemed to be a certain poetic justice in asking for help fixing Sam from the very person who had broken him in the first place. Emmanuel was looking up at him again and Dean couldn’t help the well of emotion that swelled as he stared into those vivid blue eyes. Eyes that stared back with no recognition whatsoever.

“I seem to be able to help to a certain degree. What’s your issue?”

Dean made up his mind. Sure Cas was back with no memory. But right now, Sam needed his help so Dean did what he always did: took his needs, feelings, and desires and shoved them deep down. He wouldn’t tell Emmanuel who he really was. He didn’t need that burden and Dean didn’t need him walking into another lake. When this was all over and Sam was back on his feet, he would bring Emmanuel back here to his wife and they would go their separate ways. It was not like Dean had ever expected to see him again and you couldn’t miss what you never had.

“My brother.”


	5. Chapter 5

“This ain’t gonna go well.”

 

“I don’t know, I believe in the little tree topper.”

 

As Dean watched Cas walk away from him, he felt his gut twist.

 

On the one hand he wanted Castiel back. His Castiel. It was a greedy, selfish want that surged though Dean like a drug. It was what he had wanted, what he had dreamed of, since he’d watched the man lurch into that reservoir. What he’d been praying for as the angel had sunk beneath the water and he’d waited with bated breath for him to reemerge. But as the seconds and then minutes had ticked past, his hopes had faded and when he’d looked down to find that the sodden trench coat had made it’s way back to the shore, born on the rippled movement of the water, he’d resigned himself to knowing that he’d never get his angel back. It was easier than hoping in vain.

 

And then he was there again, in that house, with a different name and a different life but the same face that haunted Dean’s every waking moment. _Oh God_ did he want his angel back.

 

But at the same time he knew it would come at a cost.

 

As Emmanuel, Cas was unburdened. Content. The way he’d been before Dean had entered his life and bulldozed it as he did with everything he touched.

 

As Meg had said, they didn’t want to upset the guy.

 

 

This was all her fault. She was the one that wanted to tell Cas in the first place, the one who had blurted out that he was an angel.

 

Dean’s ingrained need to save Sam warred against his desire to protect Cas as he watched the angel march into battle with only the vague hope that instinct would take over and that some small part of Cas would remember who and what he was.

 

Castiel stepped up to the first demon and pushed him lamely in the chest. Dean hefted the knife, preparing to run into the fray after the amnesic angel. This was stupid, this was suicide. There was no way Castiel would be able to defend himself in his current state.

 

And then Castiel’s hand was on the demon’s head and blinding light was pouring out of every orifice before it dropped to the floor, eyes burned out.

 

“That’s my boy.” Meg commented from behind him and he felt like punching the demon. He wasn’t _her boy_. What claim did she have to him just because they’d shared an admittedly heated kiss once that Dean had still never managed to wipe from his brain?

 

Dean watched as Castiel smote every single one of the demons guarding the hospital and when he was finished, he just stood there, unmoving, as Dean and Meg approached from behind.

 

“That was beautiful Clarence.” Meg commented in her sarcastic alto.

 

When Cas didn’t turn around immediately, Dean started to worry.

 

“Cas?”

 

He waited with bated breath, wondering who he would see shining out of those brilliant blue eyes: Emmanuel or Castiel.

 

“I remember you.” The voice was gruffer than Emmanuel’s had been, pulled down by the weight of knowledge and memory. He turned and Castiel’s serious gaze was back on Jimmy Novak’s face.

 

Dean started. He hadn’t realized how unlike Castiel Emmanuel had been until that moment and Dean was hit with an overwhelming feeling of relief that the angel was finally back followed by sorrow at the immeasurable amount of pain he could see in the angel’s eyes.

 

“I remember everything.”

 

Dean stood stock still as Castiel fought with the memories flooding his mind.

 

“What I did. What I became.” He looked back at Dean, eyes angry, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“Because Sam’s dying in there.”

 

“Because of me!” Dean started at the anger and pain in the angel’s voice, “Everything, all these people. I shouldn’t be here.”

 

Cas stormed past Dean and Meg

 

“Cas! Cas!” Dean called after him. He turned to Meg. “You stay here. Cas!”

 

Turning, Dean chased after the distraught angel, catching up with him near the car.

 

“If you remember, you know you did the best you could at the time.”

 

“Don’t defend me.” The angel countered, “Do you have any idea the death toll in heaven? On Earth?”

 

Castiel rounded on Dean.

 

“We didn’t part friends Dean.

 

“So what?”

 

“I deserved to die.”

 

Hearing those words spoken with such resolution cut Dean to the quick as though the very phrase could reign down heavenly wrath and snatch the angel away from him. Dean had already lost Castiel more times than he could stand.

 

“Now, I can’t possibly fix it…So why did I even walk out of that river?”

 

“Maybe _to_ fix it.”

 

Cas looked away, huffing in annoyance, when a thought occurred to Dean.

 

“Wait.” He pleaded, fishing the keys out of his pocket. He opened the trunk of the black Dodge Charger and pulled out the folded trench coat.

 

He didn’t know why he had kept it. It was stupid and sentimental and so not his style but Dean hadn’t had the heart to give it up, as though that would mean he was giving up Cas. He looked down at the bundle of tan fabric. He hadn’t been able to get the bloodstains out no matter how many times he’d washed it but it was a link to the old Cas. The one who had rescued him from hell, had rebelled against heaven for him, had let Dean drag him to a brothel and saved him from Zachariah and always, always, _always_ came when he called. Castiel whom he had loved even if he didn’t have the strength to admit it even to himself.

 

Dean thought back to the last time he’d seen Cas alive. Showing up covered in blood, his vessel falling apart from the strain of containing thousands of monstrous souls. Trying to apologize to Dean who couldn’t find it in him to accept, not then, not after watching Sam fall apart. The grief of thinking he was dead only for the angel to recover, healed. Everything could have been fine. They could have healed Sam, gone back to Bobby’s, and, over time, recover their friendship. But then the Leviathans came and Cas walked into the reservoir and Dean never got a chance to tell him…

 

Dean held out the coat to Cas like a superhero’s uniform. Cas stared, fingering the folded material before looking up at Dean.

 

“You kept it.”

 

Dean nodded and Castiel took the coat, unfurling it and letting it hang. Slowly, almost reverently, Cas slipped it on.

 

“There.” Dean said, adjusting the lapels and letting his hands rest on the angel’s chest, “Good as new.”

 

Cas stared up at Dean, blue eyes wide, pleading.

 

“Dean I…I am sorry. For everything.”

 

Dean nodded.

 

“I know.” He pulled the angel forward, wrapping his arms around him and revelling in the solidity of his friend as though he needed to touch him, feel him, to prove he was really here, “Now go save my brother. Meg and I will be right behind you.”

 

Castiel stared at Dean for another long second before nodding and disappearing in a ruffle of invisible wings.

 

…

 

Castiel could not fix Sam.

 

Dean felt the weight of that knowledge settle on his already overburdened shoulders like a colossus. He had been _so sure_ it would work, especially after Emmanuel had turned out to be Cas. To hear that it wasn’t going to happen was…

 

“What the hell do you mean you can’t?”

 

He stood with Castiel in the corner of Sam’s room. Sam looked, if it was even possible, worse than he had when Dean had left.

 

“I mean there’s nothing left to rebuild.”

 

“Why not.” It wasn’t impossible. It couldn’t be. They were the Winchesters. They pointed and laughed at the impossible.

 

“Because it crumbled. The pieces got crushed to dust by whatever’s happening inside his head right now.”

 

Dean leaned back against the wall, staring at his brother, wondering what he was seeing, hearing. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Not for them.

 

“So you’re saying there’s nothing? That he’s going to be like this until his candle blows out?” Dean’s anger with the angel was rising. He was glad Castiel was back, so, so glad but still, the memory that this was all Cas’s doing ate at him and incited his ire.

 

“I’m sorry. This isn’t a problem I can make disappear, you know that.”

 

Castiel joined Dean in looking at Sam, oblivious to their presence. The angel stiffened.

 

“But I may be able to shift it.”

 

Dean looked at the resolve growing in the angel. Shift? What did shift mean?

 

“Shift?” He asked for clarification, Castiel didn’t give him any.

 

“Yeah it would get Sam back on his feet.”

 

The angel moved to Sam’s bedside, sitting down and rolling up his sleeves. He glanced back at Dean and said cryptically, “It’s better this way.” He turned back to Sam, “I’ll be fine.”

 

And then it was like the second eclipse all over again. When Cas had turned to Dean and apologized, right before the portal had opened and all the souls had been sucked back into Purgatory.

 

“Wait Cas what are you doing?” It felt too finite. Too much like a goodbye. Dean’s stomach twisted. He couldn’t lose the angel. Not when he’d just gotten him back.

 

But it was too late because Castiel had already placed his hand on Sam’s forehead and Sam’s eyes flashed with a hellish red light that flowed in tendrils out of Sam and into Cas.

 

Sam gasped as Cas let go of him and Dean rushed forward with a concerned, “Sam?”

 

“Dean.”

 

“Sam!” hearing his brother say his name, hell acknowledge him at all, sent a surge of hope through Dean.

 

But something was wrong with Cas. When Sam tried calling out for him, he stared at the younger Winchester with the same fear that Dean had seen in Sam’s eyes only a moment before.

 

Shift it.

 

Damnit Cas.

 

Castiel gasped in horror and hurried backwards until he hit the wall, his breath quickening and his face screwed up in terror.

 

“Cas!” Dean moved forward but with a cry, Castiel stumbled backwards into the corner crouching down into a ball and twining his fingers in his hair, twisting and pulling and whimpering in fear.

 

…

 

The door slammed shut behind them as Sam and Dean exited the hospital.

 

"I dunno.” Sam said, as he followed Dean to the car, “I mean, we can’t just leave him.”

 

“Well we can’t bring him with us.” Dean countered, ignoring the gnawing ache in his gut that had set up shop the moment Dean had decided that leaving the comatose angel at the hospital was the safest course of action, “Everything on the planet is out for us okay? Word gets out…we can’t protect him. Not really. This is safer.” Dean wondered as he said it, whom he was trying to convince more? Sam or himself? “Every demon who knows about Castiel is dead.”

 

Sam scoffed.

 

“Not every one.”

 

Dean’s stomach clenched again. He didn’t like the thought of leaving Meg to look after Cas and not just because she was a demon. He didn’t like the way she looked at him and flirted with him and the way Cas had pushed her up against the wall and kissed her when they had been storming Crowley’s complex. He didn’t like the thought of leaving her alone with him. Especially with him in such a vulnerable state.

 

“Look Dean, this whole enemy of my enemy is my friend thing sounds kind of like a demon deal.

 

“It’s not a deal.” Dean reassured, trying to sound more confident than he felt, “It’s-”

 

“It’s what?”

 

“Mutually assured destruction.” He said after a beat.

 

Sam wasn’t buying it.

 

“Look man, I get it, she’s not our friend. We don’t even have friends. All our friends are dead.”

 

He got into the car.

 

_Or as good as._

 

Dean sat behind the wheel staring out at nothing and contemplating the amount of crap that life continued to throw at him.

 

Sam opened the door and folded his oversized frame into the passenger seat.

 

They drove for a while not saying anything until the tension got to be too much and Dean broke.

 

“Okay out with it.”

 

Sam looked over at him, his face the perfect picture of innocence.

 

“Out with what?”

 

“I know you want to know about Cas.”

 

Dean had explained briefly to Sam about Emmanuel and the amnesia but Dean also knew Sam would have more questions. Sam always had more questions.

 

“Did you get a chance to talk to Cas about…you know?”

 

Dean rolled his eyes.

 

“What, my _feelings_?” He practically spat the word out as though it were poison.

 

Sam sighed.

 

“No.” Dean answered, keeping his eyes on the road and refusing to look at his brother and the pitying expression he knew he would see in those eyes, “It never came up.”

 

Sam sighed.

 

“Dean I’m…” he trailed off, “I’m sorry.”

 

Dean made a non-committal noise and they lapsed back into silence.

 

A part of Dean was glad he and Cas hadn’t talked about it. It was, after all, his modus operandi to just shove everything down and ignore it, but all the same he couldn’t shake the feelings of loss and hurt and betrayal. Cas had healed Sam yes, but at the cost of his own sanity and he’d gone and done it without saying goodbye and now he was gone. Again.

 

And Dean had just gotten him back.

 

He squeezed the steering wheel in frustration.

 

That was why he was leaving Cas behind. Because it was too hard, too painful to see the shell of the angel who had been his friend, his saviour, literally, reduced to an unresponsive empty vessel.

 

He had lost the man he loved all over again and it still hurt like hell.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter spans from 7x21 to 9x01.
> 
> Enjoy!

As they walked through the corridors of the Northern Indiana State Hospital, Dean couldn't help the feeling of nervous anticipation that was growing steadily stronger in his gut. Ever since Meg had called to tell them Cas was awake, he had been chomping at the bit to get here but now that they were…

 

"You know, we raced all the way here and now, I dunno. I can't say I'm fired up to see what's left of the guy."

 

"You think he remembers it all?"

 

Dean scoffed.

 

"That and whatever hell baggage he lifted off of your plate. It's not going to be pretty."

 

Castiel was standing at the window when they entered, his trench coat clad back turned to them in the dimly lit room. It was such a familiar sight that Dean half expected him to turn, acknowledge him with a terse 'Hello Dean' and start spouting some shit about the apocalypse or stolen holy weapons.

 

"Hey Cas." He greeted, forcing false calm into his voice, a life-long habit borne from his need to keep his emotions hidden and his head above water.

 

The angel didn't respond right away and for a second Dean feared another Emmanuel incident, that the madness he'd released Sam from had somehow robbed him of himself and he'd forgotten everything again.

 

But then he turned and he was…Cas.

 

"Hello Dean."

 

Dean had heard those words spoken so many times in exactly the same tone and voice that sound of it soothed Dean with its familiarity and Dean began to let himself hope that maybe it would all be okay. That Meg had just been messing with them when she'd hinted at there being a problem. That whatever mysterious power had brought Cas out of the lake, be it God or who knew what, had fixed him. Properly fixed him.

 

For a long moment Dean allowed himself to bask in the possibility that he could have  _his_  Castiel back and actually keep him this time.

 

"Sam."

 

Sam smiled.

 

"Hey Castiel." His relieved tone of voice told Dean that his brother was thinking along very similar lines to Dean.

 

"Well, look at you walking and talking." He remarked as Cas stepped forwards, coming to stand in front of the two brothers, "That's…that's great right?"

 

Because he needed it to be great. He needed Cas to be all right. Because he didn't think he could take losing another person he cared about. Not this year.

 

Cas held out his hand, index finger extended towards Dean. Dean looked down at it and back up at Cas, the hope that had bloomed in his chest slipping an iota.

 

"Pull my finger." The angel said, his eyes wide and serious.

 

"What?"

 

"My finger. Pull it."

 

And with that, Dean's brief flame of hope died. This was not Castiel. Not his Castiel. He fought the urge to sob and then break something because, of course. When did the universe ever do something nice for the Winchesters?

 

Dean cleared his throat but obliged, grasping the offered digit and tugging slightly.

 

Every light in the room blew in a shower of sparks and breaking glass sending the four plunging into moonlit darkness.

 

Castiel laughed and Dean felt inexplicably angry. Castiel didn't  _laugh_ , Castiel never  _laughed_.

 

This wasn't Castiel.

 

Dean's anger continued to grow as Cas rattled on about bees and Meg's beauty and cat penises and some dude called Metatron until Dean and Meg began yelling at one another and he decided to go on a little trip to the dayroom, breaking the tablet in the process.

 

It might have been funny under different circumstances but seeing Cas like this…Cas who had rebelled against heaven and taken on archangels and raised Dean from the pit. Seeing him reduced to this sorry state was just too much. It saddened Dean to see him this way and frustrated him as he tried to communicate the importance of their task while Cas sat there and played his game and Dean's anger grew until he could not take it anymore.

 

"Forget the damn game!" he yelled, slamming his hand on the table and sweeping the stupid board game off the table. Why should Cas get to faff around, playing games and following bees while the whole world went to shit because of something  _he_  did?

 

Why did he get to ignore everything and bury his head in the sand?

 

Dean immediately regretted his outburst when Cas bowed his head, looking like a kicked puppy whose favourite teddy bear had just been stolen, but he couldn't let go of his anger.

 

It wasn't fair damnit! The universe couldn't go and bring Cas back only to take him away again, leaving this shadow, this ghost behind that looked like Cas and sounded like Cas but wasn't.

 

Dean just wanted his friend back. More than anything.

 

"Forget the game Cas."

 

Cas looked at him.

 

"I'm sorry Dean."

 

But Dean couldn't accept it because it still hurt too damn much. Why was it always the people he loved who ended up hurting him the most?

 

"No." Dean said, "You're  _playing_  Sorry."

 

...

 

He survived Purgatory. Survived the long year of non-stop hunting and searching for the angel with the blue eyes.

 

He survived Cas getting left behind despite the ache of loss that sat heavy in his soul when he remembered the relief at finally finding the angel by that river, how good it had felt to hold him, feel him real and solid. To know that this was  _his_ Cas not Crazy Cas or Emmanuel or Godstiel or the Leviathans, just  _Cas_.

 

He survived thinking he was going crazy seeing the trench coat clad angel everywhere he went.

 

He survived nearly dying of a heart attack when the aforementioned angel showed up in the bathroom with no warning whatsoever.

 

He survived the growing suspicion that the Cas that had made it out of Purgatory was not the same one he had left there.

 

He had survived Cas nearly killing him, looking down on him with blank, uncaring eyes as Dean kneeled, beaten and bloody at his feet and pleaded with him, hoping against hope that the part of Cas that had rebelled, had always come when he called, had looked on him with love and devotion, would hear and stop.

 

But he did not know if he could survive this.

 

Not this.

 

"Don't you dare think that there is  _anything_ , past, present, or future that I would put in front of you! It has never been like that, ever! I need you to see that. I'm begging you."

 

Sam stood there looking like death warmed over. His arms glowing with the force of the incomplete third trial.

 

"I'm sorry Dean. I have to do this. For every person who has ever been possessed by a demon, for every person caught in the crossfire. For Sarah and Bobby and Rufus and Jess and Mom. And you Dean. I have to do this. I'm sorry."

 

"Sammy, No!"

 

But it was too late because Sam had already clamped his bleeding hand over Crowley's mouth and yelled "Lastra!"

 

Crowley's head snapped back, a white light blazing from his eyes.

 

Sam fell to the floor, panting and coughing, the ground in front of his mouth growing red with flecks of blood. With shaking hands he lifted the paper with final chant written on it, whispering the words between deep, hacking coughs. His arms lit up with pure celestial light, spreading through his body until he was glowing out of every pore. And then he turned onto his back and screamed, light shooting out of him until it filled the entire abandoned church with blinding luminescence.

 

When it faded, Crowley was still chained to the chair and Sam lay unmoving on the ground.

 

"Sam? Sam!"

 

Dean ran to where his brother lay, falling to his knees and shaking him roughly.

 

"Sam? Sammy?"

 

He checked his pulse. Nothing.

 

"Sammy!" He looked up, his voice pleading, "Cas! Castiel! Please! Please Cas I need you!"

 

But the angel didn't appear and Dean felt the ache of abandonment added to the heartbreak of seeing his brother's lifeless body lying unmoving on the bare floor of the abandoned church. Tears burned his eyes as he continued calling Sam's name.

 

"No no no…"

 

He lifted Sam's head and torso up onto his lap, cradling the still body to his chest and rocking back and forth, broken sobs wracking his body as he wept into his brother's hair.

 

Dimly, he registered several loud, earth shattering  _BOOMs!_  Echoing in the derelict church and the sky outside the blown out windows was lit with thousands of glowing balls of light falling to the ground like meteors.

 

"No." Dean whispered.

 

Castiel hadn't succeeded, just as Dean hadn't succeeded in preventing Sam from completing the final trial. Cas hadn't stopped Metatron.

 

And now the angels were falling.

 

He looked up at the figure still chained to the chair above him.

 

"Bring him back." He said, "Bring him back."

 

Crowley stared back, his expression a mixture of shock and pity.

 

"I can't Dean." He answered softly, his voice as gravelly as it always was but lacking in the usual disdain.

 

"Can't or won't!" Dean yelled back.

 

"Can't." he confirmed.

 

"Well why not you son of a bitch!" his hands were shaking where they held his brother's lifeless body.

 

"Because he completed the third trial." Crowley explained, "I not a demon anymore Dean."

 

The last vestiges of hope fled. Of course. The trials. Sam had closed the gates of hell forever. Which meant he had succeeded in curing Crowley. It also meant no crossroads demon. No deals. And, with Castiel not answering his damn prayers, there was nothing, nothing he could do to fix this. Nothing he could do to save Sam. He could hear his father's voice echoing in his head, berating him for letting his little brother down once again.

_Look after Sam._

_It's your job to protect Sam._

_I told you not to let him out of your sight._

_It's your duty._

_I raised you to be a man._

 

He had failed. Failed in everyway imaginable. He should never have let Sam do the trials. It should have been him. Dean buried his face in his brother's hair, not caring that he had an audience to his breakdown. Sam was dead. Nothing else mattered.

 

And then the body in his arms gave an almighty jerk and Sam gasped, sitting up so quickly and violently that he nearly head-butted Dean in the face.

 

Dean was thrown back, staring in shock at his resurrected brother.

 

Sam sat panting, trying to get his bearings. He looked around until he locked eyes with his brother.

 

"Dean." He gasped, his face contorted in confusion. "Wha-?"

 

But the rest of his words were cut short when Dean grabbed him and pulled him in, squeezing tight.

 

"Dean? Dean!"

 

"What?" his voice came out choked as he fought not to burst into tears again.

 

"If you squeeze any harder I'm going to die again."

 

Dean loosened his grip and pulled back, not taking his hands off Sam's shoulders.

 

"Sorry, I just umm…"

 

Sam nodded.

 

"I know."

 

And he did. He could see the evidence of tears on Dean's face and he remembered how he himself had grabbed a hold of Dean when he and Bobby had shown up four months after they'd buried his brother.

 

Dean nodded, not trusting himself to speak

 

Sam looked around, finally noticing the nearly forgotten third person in the room.

 

"If you two are done with your tender brotherly moment would you mind terribly uncuffing me?" Crowley asked.

 

Sam blinked. The words had been spoken in the usual gruff tones but there was something missing; an underlying anger that was just…gone.

 

He turned to Dean.

 

"Did it work?"

 

Dean stood and pulled his flask of holy water from an inside pocket. Unscrewing the cap, he doused the chained man.

 

Nothing happened.

 

Crowley looked down at the water dripping from his face onto the dark slacks of his vessel. His body.

 

He could feel it. The humanity, creeping up on him. Infecting, invading. The weight of the knowledge of all that he had done settling heavily upon his shoulders. He tried to push it back, file it away, but he could still feel it, like a wild creature clawing his insides to bits. He looked up.

 

"It worked."

 

Sam nodded.

 

"Good." He murmured before passing out.

 

…

 

When he woke again he was laying in a hospital bed. Dean was asleep in a chair beside him but opened his eyes and sat up the moment Sam regained consciousness.

 

"Hey." He said, sitting forward in his chair and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, "How're you feeling?"

 

Sam tried to hoist his body into a more upright position but found he was too weak to even make it more than a few inches. Dean grabbed the remote and pressed a button, raising the bed until Sam was sitting comfortably upright.

 

"Weak." He answered in a quiet, rough voice, "Tired. Sore. Thirsty."

 

Dean filled a cup with water and handed it to Sam who nearly spilled it when he tried to hold it on his own. Dean grabbed a straw and held the cup up so Sam could drink.

 

"Thanks." He said when the cup was empty, "What happened?"

 

"Well, you ah, finished the trial and then died."

 

Dean was looking at him murderously and Sam knew that as soon as Dean's relief over the fact that Sam had miraculously survived faded, he would get more than an earful from his brother.

 

"And then the angels fell."

 

"What?!"

 

"Yeah. Apparently those tasks that Metatron was getting Cas to do-"

 

"The ones to close heaven?"

 

"Yeah, not what they were for. He was trying to cast the angels out. And it looks like it worked."

 

Sam sat in stunned silence, trying to process the news that every single angle in heaven was now walking the earth.

 

"What about Cas?"

 

"MIA." Dean tried to cover the tremor in his voice with a cough but Sam could tell his brother was worried about the angel. "Last I saw him he was going to confront Metatron. Looks like it didn't go well."

 

"Do you think that he…I mean…"

 

Dean looked up and Sam could see the worry in his eyes.

 

"I dunno. I tried praying to him but…" He trailed off. "So." He said, clearing his throat and changing gears, "Do you remember anything else from when you were, you know?"

 

"Dead?"

 

Dean shifted and swallowed, his eyes bright with withheld tears.

 

"Yeah." He replied gruffly.

 

Sam took in a deep breath and relaxed back against the bed, letting his gaze wander up to the plain white ceiling.

 

"Not really. I just remember feeling…peaceful. You know?"

 

He looked over at Dean who nodded despite the fact that they both knew Dean had never felt peaceful a day in his life.

 

"So you don't uh, you don't know what brought you back?"

 

Sam shook his head. They sat in silence contemplating the implications. Good things didn't tend to happen to the Winchesters and, in their experience, resurrections were rarely a good thing.

 

"What did the doctor say?"

 

Dean shook his head.

 

"They were amazed you were still breathing. Apparently your insides were turning to goop, something about massive burns on all your organs, but you're starting to improve which they can't explain. They're calling you a miracle."

 

Sam tried to take it all in.

 

"Well…I mean, the tablet was the word of God, maybe…"

 

"Maybe what? Maybe God brought you back?" Dean scoffed, "God who's been AWOL for who knows how long?"

 

"Well, someone brought me back. Why do we have to assume it's a bad thing? Good things do happen Dean."

 

Dean looked stonily back at his brother.

 

"Not to us."

 

Sam huffed and leant back against the pillows.

 

"What about Crowley?"

 

"What about him?"

 

Sam glared and Dean sighed.

 

"He's in the trunk of the car."

 

"What? But the trial."

 

"Oh he's human. Don't worry, I've been feeding him."

 

"Dean."

 

"Look, I don't trust him Sam. You may have 'cured' him but that don't make him an ally."

 

Sam sighed but didn't argue. Dean had a point. And besides, he was too tired.

 

Dean's phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, glancing at the caller ID but didn't recognize the number. He answered.

 

"Who is this?"

 

"Dean."

 

Dean's heart leapt in relief at the sound of the familiar rough voice.

 

"Cas!"

 

Sam raised his head.

 

"What the hell is going on?

 

"Metatron tricked me. It wasn't angel trials, it was a spell. I wanted you to know that."

 

"A spell?"

 

Sam raised his eyebrows as Dean glanced over.

 

"Okay, where are you? Have you heard my prayers? I've been praying to you all night."

 

"Dean, Metatron he…he took my grace."

 

"What?!"

 

"Don't worry about me. What about Sam? Did you stop him from completing the trials?"

 

"No. He did it. He closed the gates of hell."

 

"And? You don't sound upset so…"

 

"No he's fine. A little tired and weak and well, he did die for a few minutes but then…"

 

"What."

 

"Something brought him back."

 

There was silence over the phone.

 

"What? What brought him back?"

 

"I don't know."

 

Dean heard Castiel sigh.

 

"Well, so long as he's alright."

 

"Yeah." Dean answered, "But what about you? You said Metatron took your grace. Does that mean you're human now?"

 

"Don't worry about me Dean, I'll be fine. I've met another angel. She's lost, she needs my help."

 

"Are you sure you can trust her? I mean if it was your grace that cast them out, don't you think some of them'll be pretty pissed at you?"

 

"I can't just abandon them Dean."

 

"Damnit Cas! Are you hearing yourself? In my experience angels aren't the best news on a good day but now that they've fallen, I can't imagine they're going to be any more reasonable. Look I want you to stay where you are; I'm going to come get you. Where are you?"

 

"I'm at a gas station in Longmont, Colorado." He said, giving Dean the location that the man who'd picked him up had given him.

 

Dean cursed under his breath. It would take at least a day of straight driving to get there.

 

"Okay Cas, listen to me. I need you to stay where you are. It's going to take a while to get there but I'm gonna come get you, you hear? If you find somewhere else to stay, call me. And if we get separated, make for the bunker. You got it?"

 

"I've got it. Thank you Dean."

 

"Okay."

 

Dean hung up and Sam raised his eyebrows for answers.

 

"What's going on? Why is Cas human? Where is he?"

 

"Colorado." Dean answered, making for the door in search of a wheelchair to get his brother out of the hospital, "Metatron used his grace to cast the angels out. I'll explain everything once we get out of here."

 

…

 

Sam slept most of the drive, his body still very weak despite the fact that it was slowly healing itself. Dean pounded back cup after cup of crappy gas station coffee as he drove to Cas.

 

But when they reached the truck stop Cas had described for him, the former angel was nowhere to be seen.

 

"Damnit!" Dean yelled, slamming his fist into the side of the phone booth. He'd heard no word from the guy since they'd talked the day before.

 

He made his way back to the Impala and climbed into the driver's seat.

 

"He's not here." He told Sam who was slumped in the passenger side of the bench seat, head resting against the window.

 

"Well, you told him to head to the bunker right?"

 

Dean nodded. He knew there was nothing else to do. There was no way to contact Cas and he couldn't keep driving around with Sam in the state he was. He started the car and pulled out onto the road, heading for Lebanon, Kansas and hoping that wherever he was, Castiel was doing the same.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean pulled up to the entrance to the bunker, throwing his baby into park and getting out, moving around to the passenger door to help his brother out of the car. Dean struggled under Sam's oversized bulk, grumbling to himself that it wasn't fair and that “Little brothers should stay little dammit!”

 

Together they stumbled into the bunker and narrowly missed being impaled by an arrow.

 

"What the hell." He muttered, as Sam sagged against him.

 

"Dean? Sam?" Kevin popped up from behind a makeshift barricade in the library wielding a crossbow. "You're alive."

 

"Yeah, cause you're a crappy shot Katniss."

 

Beside him Sam frowned.

 

"How do you know—?"

 

"Shut up." Dean said, making his way to the staircase and beginning the slow descent down.

 

Kevin rushed up to meet them looking, if possible, even worse than he had when they'd left.

 

"What happened are you alright?" he asked, moving to Sam's other side.

 

"He's fine." Dean answered for his brother, "Just recovering from a mild case of being dead."

 

"What?! You died?"

 

"Yeah." Sam replied, "It happens to us on occasion."

 

"What about you?" Dean asked, glancing over at the haggard looking prophet.

 

"It's been a bad couple of days," he responded, his eye twitching involuntarily, "I haven't slept or eaten." The reached the bottom of the staircase and began moving towards Sam's room. "I'm pretty backed up."

 

"Okay, overshare."

 

"After we talked this place went nuts all right? There was some alarm and all the machines were freaking out and the bunker just locked down! I couldn't open the door, my cell phone stopped working! I thought the world was ending."

 

Kevin stopped, which forced Dean and Sam to stop. He looked around Sam to Dean.

 

"The world didn't end did it?"

 

"Close." He sighed, "The angels fell."

 

Kevin looked blankly at him.

 

"What does that mean?"

 

Dean shook his head, hefting his brother and continuing on towards the bedrooms.

 

"Nothing good."

 

They made it to Sam's room, settling him in the bed where he immediately drifted off to sleep again.

 

Dean stood, looking down on his unconscious brother.

 

"So you managed to stop Sam from completing the trials?"

 

Dean looked up at the prophet.

 

"No." he said curtly, looking back down at the bed.

 

"Then…what?"

 

Dean bit his lip and turned to exit the room, Kevin following.

 

"He completed them, he died, he came back."

 

Kevin stopped.

 

"How?" he whispered.

 

Dean stopped and turned looking back down the dark corridor. He shook his head.

 

"I don't know."

 

And with that he turned, leaving Kevin pondering the news while he made his way back to the Impala.

 

It was time to talk to the newly human Crowley.

 

…

 

The former demon glared at Dean once the hunter had pulled him from the trunk and ripped the duct tape off his mouth, eliciting a yell of pain.

 

"Well?" he said after a moment of just standing outside the entrance to the bunker, "Aren't you going to invite me inside your little man cave?

 

Dean crossed his arms and adopted a strong stance.

 

"And what makes you think you can stay here?" Dean countered.

 

Crowley looked at him with raised eyebrows.

 

"Well you can't just abandon me out here, I know your pet moose closed hell and all but there are still demons on this earth and once word spreads that I've joined the rebel alliance they'll be out for my head. Not to mention all the angels that have been set loose."

 

"Yeah, I'm not seeing how this is my problem."

 

"Look! I didn't ask for this all right? I didn't ask to be saved! I didn't ask to be cured! You went to hell for four months and it felt like forty years, well I've been dead for three centuries! You cannot imagine what you have done to me!" his breathing was heavy by the time he finished.

 

Dean contemplated the words. The guy did have a point.

 

"Besides," Crowley continued, "I can be useful to you."

 

Dean raised his eyebrow in a silent command to go on.

 

"I have knowledge and resources."

 

Dean looked thoughtful. It would be nice not having to rely so heavily on pool hustling and credit card fraud anymore.

 

"Plus." He added, "I know where the prophet's mother is."

 

Dean's eyes widened.

 

"Mrs. Tran's still alive?"

 

Crowley nodded.

 

"And I'll take you to her so long as you promise to let me stay."

 

Dean considered the deal. On the one hand, he didn't trust Crowley, even as a human. But it was true that he had a vast amount of knowledge at his disposal, not to mention the money. And Linda…

 

"Alright, but no leaving the bunker without either Sam's or my permission. Got it?"

 

Crowley sighed and nodded before Dean grabbed him and dragged him inside.

 

Kevin did not react well to Crowley's presence and it took a few tries for Dean to get a word in edgewise.

 

"Kevin, Kevin, KEVIN!"

 

Kevin cut off, breathing hard, his fists shaking and tears swimming in his eyes.

 

"Your mother's alive," Crowley said in the silence that followed, "and I know where she is."

 

Kevin stood stock still, staring at the former king of hell.

 

"You're lying."

 

"I'm not."

 

Kevin moved forward slowly with deliberate steps and fierce eyes locked on Crowley's. He came to a halt in front of the man.

 

"My mother's alive?" he whispered, voice wobbling with emotion.

 

Crowley nodded.

 

"You know where she is?"

 

Crowley nodded.

 

"And you'll take me to her?"

 

Again, Crowley nodded.

 

"Okay." Kevin said decisively, "You can stay."

 

Then he threw a punch that knocked the former King of Hell on his ass.

 

"WHERE'S MY MOM!"

 

…

 

They found Mrs. Tran in a storage facility in Wichita along with a young girl named Candy and some kid named Jerome. After seeing to other two off safely, they headed back to the bunker where Sam, in his weakened state, had stayed to hold the fort.

 

A week passed with no word from Cas. They had tracked him though Iowa and Indiana, losing track of him in Michigan, but with Linda Tran recovering from the torture she'd received at the hands of a man who was now living with them in the bunker and Sam still too weak to get out of bed some days, he hadn't been able to leave to look for the guy no matter how much it killed him not to go.

 

Then one evening, when Dean was in the kitchen cleaning up from dinner with Sam helping from the chair he was still using occasionally when walking became too much, Dean's cell phone rang, vibrating loudly against the stainless steel countertop.

 

Dean picked up the phone, glancing at the caller ID but the number was unknown. He pressed the button to accept the call.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Dean?" The voice was weak and pained but utterly familiar and it sent a jolt of relief though the hunter.

 

"Cas?" he asked. After five days of nothing from the fallen angel Dean's heart was hammering in his chest at the sound of that voice.

 

Across the kitchen, Sam looked up.

 

"Where are you?" Dean asked.

 

"Lebanon." The answer came, still in that breathy hitched tone. Dean knew that tone. It was the tone of someone in pain, someone attempting to speak through waves of agony.

 

"Are you okay? You sound hurt."

 

A grunt was heard down the line and then Castiel breathing heavily.

 

"Some men wanted money. But I didn't have any. They did not believe me."

 

"Shit." He swore, striding out of the room and grabbing his coat and keys. "Where are you exactly?"

 

Cas gave him the street name and some nearby landmarks to help the hunter pinpoint his location.

 

"Okay. Stay on the line. I'm coming to get you." He held the phone to his chest and turned to Sam. "Cas is in town. He got mugged so I'm going to go get him."

 

Sam nodded, concern for the angel evident in his face.

 

"Okay."

 

…

 

Dean got to the street corner Cas had given him and stepped out of the Impala, looking around frantically for the injured man, he'd stopped responding about a mile back and Dean was now in full panic mode.

 

"Cas!"

 

A noise alerted him to a nearby phone booth that stood defaced and decrepit on the curbside and when Dean got there he saw Castiel, bruised and bleeding, slumped in the corner.

 

"Cas!" he went to the angel, former angel, falling to his knees and grabbing his face, "Cas!"

 

Slowly, his eyes opened, blue peeking through the slits and dark eyelashes.

 

"Dean." He said softly, almost inaudibly.

 

"Come on, let's get you up."

 

Dean lifted Cas, grabbing him around his torso as Cas' arms came up to wrap around Dean's neck. He managed to get the two of them to the car, Cas stumbling along side him.

 

Dean raced back to the bunker.

 

Once they were back and settled in Dean's room, Dean had a chance to assess him. He wasn't wearing his customary suit and trench coat and Dean wondered idly where he had gotten new clothes and what had happened to the old ones. It was odd to see Cas in a different outfit. It had only happened a handful of times and none of those were particularly good memories: Future Cas, Emmanuel, Crazy Cas.

 

This Cas was currently sitting on his bed, struggling with his coat and sweater. Dean helped him off with it and noticed the blood soaked bandage on his right arm.

 

"Shit Cas what happened?"

 

Cas looked where Dean's gaze was.

 

"Oh." He remarked, looking back at Dean, "Yes. Angels have been hunting me. One got close."

 

"And?"

 

"I stabbed him." Cas deadpanned.

 

Dean nodded his approval.

 

"Good."

 

He helped Cas divest himself of the rest of his layers exposing his abused torso.

 

"Jesus, those guys really did a number on you huh." He asked, prompting Cas to lie back against the pillows as he checked for injuries.

 

"Yes." Cas hissed as Dean began prodding his ribcage, making sure none of them were cracked or broken, "It was fortunate that I found some change on the ground with which to make a phone call."

 

"Yeah, no kidding."

 

Dean paused in his ministrations to look up at Cas. Their eyes met and the heat that Dean had come to expect whenever he found himself alone and in close proximity to the former angel rose as he raised his hand and brushed his thumb over the scratches and bruises on his face. The guy's lip had split and Dean wiped away some of the blood that had accumulated.

 

Castiel's breathing increased.

 

For a long moment they just sat there, staring at each other before Dean realized what he was doing and broke the eye contact, clearing his throat, dropping his hand, and looking away. What was this a Stephanie Meyer novel? Shifting in his place beside Cas so that he was a few millimeters further away from the newly human angel, Dean brought his attention back to Cas' battered torso.

 

"What's this?" he asked, fingers skimming lightly over the dark symbols etched in ink.

 

Castiel shivered from the touch.

 

"Enochian wards. To keep me hidden from the angels."

 

Dean nodded, taking in the tattoo, heat pooling in his belly at the idea of an inked up Castiel.

 

"You got yourself a nice collection of bruises Cas." He joked, changing the subject and running his fingers over the soft, discoloured skin.

 

Castiel, hissed as Dean came upon a particularly dark patch.

 

"Sorry." He murmured, moving on until he'd checked the entire area.

 

"Looks like you've got mostly bruised, a few broken ribs. They'll take about a month to heal and you may have some trouble breathing in the meantime but you'll be fine." He moved over to check the wound on his upper arm.

 

"If you want, you can shower before I clean and wrap this up."

 

Cas nodded.

 

"Yes, it would be nice to bathe."

 

"Alright, bathroom's down the hall, there are towels and feel free to use any of Sam's fancy hair stuff." He moved to his dresser, pulling out some sweats and a t-shirt, "Here." He said, handing him the clothes, "Come to the kitchen after, I'll make you some food."

 

Cas stood staring at the clothing in his hands before looking up at the green-eyed hunter.

 

"Thank you Dean." He said, his words heavy with meaning.

 

Dean smiled and clapped him on his uninjured shoulder.

 

"No problem."

 

…

 

Dean heard the creak of gears as Sam wheeled his way into the kitchen. He was getting stronger with every passing day and after almost a week he was strong enough to stand and walk around but he still tired easily.

 

"How's Cas?" he asked, coming to stop beside Dean who was putting together a sandwich for the guy.

 

"He's banged up pretty good. Broke a few ribs. Took some hits to the face, but he'll survive."

 

Sam nodded.

 

"Good. So he'll be staying here?"

 

Dean raised his hands.

 

"Where else is he gonna go? Guy's human now, he needs looking after."

 

"Right." Sam agreed, "So…" he trailed off suggestively.

 

Dean licked crumbs off his finger as he finished assembling the sandwich and turned to his brother, one eyebrow raised.

 

"So what?"

 

Sam sighed, trying to get Dean to talk about anything deeper than what Led Zeppelin song was arguably the best was like pulling teeth.

 

"So, since Castiel is going to be sticking around indefinitely are you going to tell him how you really feel about him so that you two can finally stop dancing around each other and save everyone having to watch you two eye-fucking every time you're together?"

 

"What the hell are you talking about? We don't do that."

 

Sam shot him a look that quite clearly said 'bitch please'.

 

Dean cleared his throat and started putting the condiments away.

 

"Look Cas and I…we're just good friends alright? Yeah, maybe I have some…feelings for the guy but that doesn't mean he has the same feelings for me."

 

"Trust me Dean he does. Look," Sam wheeled around the table and over to Dean, "This isn't about whether or not Cas has feelings for you."

 

Dean shot him a withering glance.

 

"Oh it's not Dr. Phil?"

 

Sam rolled his eyes.

 

"No, it's not. It's about you thinking you can't have the things you want; it's about you being afraid to open yourself up to something because you might get hurt.

 

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes again.

 

"Whatever Samantha."

 

Sam sighed.

 

"You know I'm right."

 

Sam chose to interpret his brother's silence as tacit agreement.

 

"Just talk to him okay? Tell him how you feel or I swear Dean I will lock you two in the dungeon until you do."

 

Dean opened his mouth to retort when Cas appeared in the entrance, his hair still damp from the shower, and wearing Dean's sweatpants and old AC/DC t-shirt. The words died on his lips as he took in the sight of Cas in his clothes and decided he rather liked the look of it. Really liked the look of it.

 

"Hey Castiel." Sam greeted.

 

"Hello Sam." Cas answered, moving gingerly to the table where Dean was setting the sandwich down.

 

"Here," Dean said, retrieving the first aid kit, "tuck into that while I patch up your shoulder."

 

Cas sat, wincing as his ribs protested at the movement, his mouth curving upwards at the sight of the food.

 

"Thank you for this," He looked up at Dean, his gaze intense, "for everything."

 

Dean looked into the deep blue eyes, inches away from his own as Dean cleansed the wound. He stared transfixed, lost in the depths, a feeling of utter calm and peace flowing through him.

 

He cleared his throat, breaking the eye contact and glancing away.

 

Sam was staring at him with a raised eyebrow and self-satisfied smirk on his face.

 

Dean glared and went back to Cas' injury.

 

"No problem Cas."

 

"So, Cas, what happened?" Sam asked.

 

Castiel explained as he ate about Hael and her attempt to capture him, about the angels that had pursued him, and how he had eventually made it to Lebanon.

 

"I ran out of money in Detroit and I ended up hitching rides until I made it here. And then those two men demanded money. I tried to fight them off but a third showed up and they…"

 

"Beat the crap out of you?" Dean offered.

 

Cas dropped his head.

 

"Yes." He murmured, shame colouring his words.

 

Dean felt a surge of guilt and, with Sam glaring at him, tried to console the guy.

 

"Hey, at least you held your own with three guys against you, most people can't even defend themselves against one."

 

Cas looked up, gratitude slowly overcoming the shame.

 

"Really?"

 

"Yeah." Dean nodded. Out of the corner of his eye Dean could see Sam beaming at him.

 

Dean mentally flipped him off and began to apply a bandage to Cas' arm.

 

"So Cas, why didn't you call me?"

 

Castiel looked away again.

 

"The angels were after me. I…I didn't want to bring them down on you."

 

Dean sighed and began to pack away the kit.

 

"Next time, not that there's going to be a next time mind, but if there is you pick up the phone and you call. Got it?"

 

Cas looked up and nodded sombrely.

 

"Good. Now, you finish up, I'm going to make you up a bed."

 

He patted Cas' good shoulder as he passed him out of the kitchen and if he let his hand linger on the fallen angel then so what?


	8. Chapter 8

Sam watched his brother leave, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

 

"So Sam. How are you?" Castiel narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized the hunter.

 

Sam shrugged.

 

"Still weak, still gotta use this thing most of the time," He indicated the wheelchair, "but good. I seem to be healing on my own; I feel a little better each day."

 

Castiel nodded.

 

"Dean said that you died."

 

"Yeah."

 

"For several minutes."

 

Sam shifted in the chair.

 

"Yes."

 

Castiel contemplated the hunter, head tilted.

 

"And you have no memory of being dead?"

 

Sam took in a deep breath.

 

"Not really, I mean, I remember feeling…at rest, peaceful, like everything had fallen the way it should and I could just…let go of everything. And then I was alive again and I knew I had been dead."

 

"And how do you feel now?"

 

Sam frowned.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"You said you felt at peace. How do you feel now that that has been taken away from you?"

 

Sam considered the question.

 

"I feel fine." He nodded, "It was a nice feeling but I don't feel like I miss it or want it back if that's what you're getting at."

 

Castiel nodded, bringing his attention back to his sandwich.

 

"That probably means it was unlikely a malevolent force that brought you back."

 

"Oh." Sam replied, "Good."

 

"What do you think it was?" Castiel's eyes were back on Sam's face and he shifted in the chair, shaking his head.

 

"I honestly don't know. The tablet said 'whosoever choses to undertake these tasks should fear not danger nor death' and the tasks were set by God…"

 

Castiel looked contemplative, chewing and swallowing deliberately before saying pensively, "Abraham and Issac."

 

"What?"

 

He looked up at Sam.

 

"The biblical tale of Abraham and Issac. You know it?"

 

Sam frowned and nodded.

 

"Yeah, umm, Abraham and his wife Sarah couldn't have children but when they were old, God gave them a son, Issac, and then God commanded Abraham to sacrifice Issac in order to show his faith."

 

Castiel nodded.

 

"God needed Abraham to be unyielding in his faith but moreover, he needed Abraham to know this and the only way to truly know something is to experience it. The tablet said he who attempts the trials should not fear death; it is one thing to say you do not fear death but another thing entirely to know it."

 

"But I was afraid." Sam admitted in a small voice.

 

"And yet you did it anyway, regardless of your fear because you knew it was the right thing to do; because it would save many people. Abraham did not want to kill Issac. It tore at him to do so. But he knew that Issac had been given to him by God and that if God wanted him back…" Castiel trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

 

Sam contemplated the words.

 

"Do you really think it was right for God to ask that of Abraham?"

 

Castiel sat back, his eyes pitched upwards.

 

"At the time I thought I did. I did not question it. Now…" He shrugged looking more lost and confused than ever, "I am not sure what I believe. I have been resurrected time and again and I have come to believe it is a punishment, to be denied relief from the guilt of the things I have done, the mistakes I have made, the people I have hurt, killed." He turned his gaze on Sam, "But I would like to believe that my father has not truly abandoned us; that your second chance is a blessing and that despite all that has happened, he still with us, watching. I know that he would never have allowed Issac to die. And I would like to believe that despite everything, he still knows what is best. I would like to believe that but…"

 

"Maybe that's all faith has to be. Wanting to believe something, despite all the evidence to the contrary."

 

Castiel's eyes seemed to soften.

 

"Yes." He murmured, "Perhaps that is enough for now."

 

They sat in silence for a few moments, ruminating on the philosophical conversation.

 

"Hey Cas…" Sam said suddenly, switching gears, "How do you feel about Dean?"

 

Castiel frowned.

 

"He is a good friend—" he began.

 

"Yeah, I know," Sam interrupted, seeing that he had to be more specific, "But how do you _feel_ about him?" he asked with emphasis.

 

Castiel's frown deepened.

 

"Are you attempting to imply something?"

 

Sam sighed, deciding to ditch subtlety. This was Castiel after all.

 

"Are you in love with Dean?"

 

Castiel looked taken aback at the frankness of Sam's inquiry.

 

"Umm I—" he swallowed.''

 

"'Cause it's totally cool if you are."

 

Castiel glanced up at Sam.

 

"I–I don't really know."

 

"Well," Sam said, "Let's start with how you feel about him. You once said you share a profound bond with Dean, what does that mean exactly?"

 

Castiel shifted and toyed with the empty plate.

 

"When I rescued Dean from hell, his soul was…damaged, in tatters. Nothing compared to what you went through in the cage, but it had begun to twist, to taint. It was in the very earliest stages of becoming a demon."

 

Sam's stomach churned. He never liked being reminded about his brother's time in hell, knowing that Dean had gone there for him and still remembered every second of it.

 

"Dean's treatment at the hands of Alistair was unusual. The torture in hell is typically slower, building up over centuries. After all, once you're there, you're there for all eternity. But Alistair knew Dean was the righteous man, that if he could break Dean he could start the apocalypse, so Dean's torture was extreme, even by hell standards."

 

Sam was stunned.

 

"Does Dean know this?"

 

Castiel shook his head.

 

"Dean has never reacted well to the subject of his time there and I have never found a good time to tell him."

 

"Well you should, it might really help him if he knew."

 

Castiel nodded.

 

"Anyway. It took a great deal of effort to heal Dean, in both body and soul and when I finished a trace amount of my grace was left in him. Through it, he and I are connected, irrevocably. Even with mine gone, I can still feel the remnants in him."

 

Sam absorbed the information.

 

"But in terms of how I feel about him." He shifted in his seat, "I…I find myself thinking about him…often. Concerned for his safety and wishing I could ease his pain both physical and emotional, and sometimes, when I am close to him, or he touches me, my vessel's heart beats so fast; like that man whose heart tore out of his chest. It is either love or fear and since I do not fear Dean perhaps…I love him?"

 

Sam couldn't help smiling at the angel's thought process.

 

"Yeah Cas, I think you just might."

 

"The problem is I do not think he reciprocates. I have observed that he only shows attraction to females and though in my original form I have no gender, Dean has only known me in a male body. Plus, surely if he felt this way towards me he would have made his interest known somehow. He is not shy, especially when it comes to these kinds of things."

 

Sam rolled his eyes.

 

"Trust me Cas, he's attracted to you. But he's just too stubborn to make the first move. Which is why I think you should do it."

 

"But Sam, I don't know what move it is I am meant to make."

 

Sam's face coloured, no way was he coaching Cas on how to come on to his brother.

 

"Just, tell him what you just told me; about how he makes you feel."

 

Castiel stared at his empty plate and nodded.

 

"Okay." He looked over at Sam. "Thank you Sam. You are a good brother. Dean is lucky to have you."

 

He stood, wincing as the movement irritated his injuries, and brought the plate over to the sink. "I wish that we had met under better circumstances."

 

"You mean when I wasn't addicted to demon blood?"

 

Castiel gave a small smile and nodded.

 

"Yeah me too." Sam agreed.

 

"Perhaps we could start over. I enjoyed our conversation. It was something I doubt Dean would be interested in."

 

Sam nodded his agreement.

 

"Goodnight Sam."

 

"Goodnight Cas."

 

…

 

Castiel found Dean in his room, dressed for bed and lying on top of the covers with his headphones on and his eyes closed.

 

He knocked but Dean did not respond. Castiel figured the music was too loud since he could hear it faintly from his position by the door.

 

He stepped slowly and cautiously into the room, knowing it was never a good idea to sneak up on a Winchester.

 

Dean cracked an eye open.

 

"Hey Cas." He said, slipping the headphones off and sitting up against the pillows, "I uh, made you up a bed in the room across the hall."

 

Cas glanced that way and nodded.

 

"Thank you." He said before coming to sit in front of Dean on the bed.

 

"What is it?" Dean asked when Cas didn't say anything.

 

Castiel had been so bolstered by his discussion with Sam that he had come to Dean with every intention of telling the hunter how he felt, but now, sitting here with him in such close proximity, the fallen angel was beginning to lose his nerve.

 

"I ummm…"

 

"Cas buddy, what's wrong?" Dean shifted closer. "You're shaking."

 

Castiel looked down at his hands to find that they were indeed quaking and his breathing had sped up to match the pounding of his heart.

 

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" Dean was now flush with him, his hands on Castiel's shoulders, "Do you have more injuries that you didn't tell me about because so help me Cas…"

 

Castiel looked up into Dean's eyes looking back at him with such concern. Their faces were inches apart, sharing breath and space and suddenly all Castiel wanted to do was press his lips against Dean's.

 

So he did.

 

Jolts of electricity spread through Cas' body, similar to, but much more powerful than, the ones he had experienced when kissing Meg. Castiel's hands came up to cup Dean's face and he turned his body to face Dean's before pulling away, his hands remaining on Dean's cheek.

 

It took a few seconds for Dean to remember how to talk.

 

"Uhh…wha…what was that Cas?"

 

Cas just stared back with his usual intense gaze.

 

"I just kissed you Dean."

 

He was frowning at the hunter confused at the need for him to have explained his actions.

 

Dean rolled his eyes.

 

"Yeah Cas, that part I got. I meant why?"

 

Cas seemed to have realized that he still held Dean's face in his hands because he blushed and lowered them, leaning back from Dean.

 

"I apologize for not giving you more warning but I have wanted to do that for some years and now seemed like a good time to try."

 

Dean blinked.

 

"Years?" he asked.

 

Cas nodded.

 

"Yes."

 

"Why didn't you try sooner?"

 

Cas shifted in his seat.

 

"I am aware that many humans are…uncomfortable with exploring alternative sexualities. I did not wish to 'frighten you away'." Castiel brought his hands up to cast inverted commas around the last words and Dean smirked at the angel's attempt at nuance. It still needed some work.

 

"Well." He said quietly, reaching out a hand to rest on Cas' knee, "I'm glad you finally did."

 

Castiel's eyes widened in pleasure and Dean noticed his shoulders relaxing. Had he really been that terrified?

 

Cas' smile faded somewhat as something occurred to him.

 

"Did I do it right? I have observed many kisses during my existence but I have not had much practical experience."

 

Dean smiled at Cas' nervous ramblings. Yep, definitely terrified.

 

"Cas." Castiel closed his mouth and bit his bottom lip. "It was awesome."

 

Cas' smile grew.

 

"Really?"

 

"Oh yeah."

 

He reached up a hand to cup Cas' cheek, running his fingers over the ever-present scruff. Cas leaned into it slightly and Dean took the opportunity to bring his lips to the fallen angel's. Dean moved his lips and Cas followed suit and the moan that escaped from between Cas' lips was downright sinful and pretty soon Dean had a lap-full of eager angel.

 

Dean's arms moved around Cas' back and Cas' hands ended up in Dean's hair and Dean for the life of him couldn't figure out why they hadn't done this years ago.

 

When they finally broke apart, Castiel looked so debauched that Dean would be surprised if they ever let him back into heaven even if they did somehow get his grace back and found someway to reopen it.

 

"Well?" he asked, smirking at the still incoherent angel sitting in his lap.

 

"I think I finally understand."

 

"Understand what?"

 

"The human preoccupation with sexual desire. Why it governs all your actions and decisions."

 

Dean leered.

 

"Oh Cas, you have no idea."

 

He pulled Castiel forwards, intent on attacking his lips again and _good God_ did it feel good, but Cas gasped suddenly and not in a nice, sexy way but in an 'I just remembered I have several bruised and broken ribs' way.

 

"Oh shit, sorry Cas." He loosened his grip and Cas leaned into him, resting his face in the crook of Dean's neck and breathing heavily through his nose. Dean ran his hands lightly over the former angel's back. "You okay?"

 

He felt Cas nod against his neck before pulling away, pain shining through his eyes.

 

"I am not accustomed to experiencing this level of pain."

 

"Here," he grabbed a pill bottle from his bedside table and shook out two white tablets, handing them to Cas along with a glass of water, "I was going to give them to you before but well…I got kind of distracted." He grinned suggestively, raising his eyebrows and Castiel seemed to have caught on because he too smiled as he swallowed the pills.

 

"Thank you Dean." He said softly, his gaze intense.

 

Dean brought his hand up to caress the other man's cheek, rubbing across the growth of beard and tangling in his hair, his gaze growing sad.

 

"Are you sure you want this Cas?"

 

Castiel frowned.

 

"By 'this' do you mean you?"

 

Dean ducked his head and Castiel reached out a hand to raise it, frowning and tilting his head.

 

"Why do you not believe you are worthy of love Dean Winchester?"

 

Dean swallowed, feeling vulnerable and exposed beneath the ex-angel's intense gaze, a feeling he was decidedly not comfortable with.

 

"Because," he began softly, swallowing to wet his suddenly dry throat, "because nothing I've ever loved has ever lasted. Everyone leaves eventually."

 

Castiel looked at him with sad eyes, knowing that, with the lives they led, he too couldn't promise not to leave.

 

"Why should that prevent you loving anyway?"

 

A tear slipped from Dean's eyes.

 

"Because it hurts too damn much when it goes away."

 

Castiel sighed and leant in, kissing the tear away.

 

"I will never willingly leave you Dean." He promised, stroking his thumb over the hunter's cheekbone and seeing the pain of loss that Dean still carried with him shine through his bright green eyes.

 

Dean pulled them down gently onto the bed, pulling the covers out and over them and guiding Castiel down to rest on his shoulder, his head in the crook of Dean's neck, wrapping his arms around the man and reveling in the feeling of Cas' arms around him.

 

"I won't ever willingly leave you either."

 

He felt Cas smile against his neck.

 

"I know Dean. You have never let me down. Despite all I have done to you, you have always believed in me."

 

Dean felt the compliment settle uneasily in his stomach as they always did, never feeling deserving of the praise. He kissed the top of the angel's head in answer and reached over to turn the light off.

 

"It is very nice to finally be able to sleep in a bed. At the shelter all we had were cots, which, I was reliably informed, are not proper beds. After that I slept in an abandoned bus, well until an angel tried to kill me. Then I slept in cars and in alleyways and on benches…I never realized how difficult it was being human. I find sleep particularly troubling…" he trailed off. Dean smiled, half-asleep as he listened to the angel ramble on, "Dean, may I ask you a question?"

 

"Mhmm." Dean murmured in agreement.

 

"This man, who shared his supper with me, told me to try counting sheep. But there were no sheep."

 

Dean laughed.

 

"It's a technique for falling asleep. The idea is, you do something really monotonous, like counting sheep, and it's so boring that you just drift off. The trick to falling asleep is that you can't think too hard about it, you gotta just let it happen."

 

"But I still don't understand, where are the sheep?"

 

Dean shifted and pressed a kiss to Castiel's forehead.

 

"They're in you mind. Picture a field full of sheep and then try counting all of them."

 

"Ah I understand, they're imaginary sheep."

 

"Mhmm." Dean replied, already drifting off.

 

"Goodnight Dean."

 

"Night Cas."


	9. Chapter 9

Dean woke abruptly, snapping from sleeping to waking with no transition in between, a habit borne from a lifetime of being on guard. He felt rested, more rested than he could ever remember feeling before.

 

The lights in the room were dim. Since the bunker had no natural light, all the lighting was on a timer to simulate the day/night cycle.

 

Dean shifted around to check the time. Seven thirty am. They had gone to sleep around eleven thirty the previous night which mean he had slept for eight hours. Eight hours of straight uninterrupted sleep. That had not happened in longer than Dean cared to remember. He was lucky if he could get through four hours without being woken by Sam or some catastrophe or a nightmare.

 

Nightmares, he hadn't had any nightmares.

 

He glanced over at the man lying next to him, his face relaxed in sleep, arm thrown carelessly over Dean's torso.

 

Castiel. Castiel was lying next to him. Castiel had fallen asleep cuddled into his side. Castiel, a guy - or a former angel in a male vessel - had kissed him last night.

 

Dean's breathing picked up as memories of his father flooded in and threatened to overwhelm him; yelling, calling him names, tearing down any confidence he may have built up when it had been just him and Mike. And then later, coming home blind drunk, swearing and stumbling, a state that didn't bode well at the best of times. And then the fear and pain and shame that had taken over when his drunken father had pushed him down onto the bed and ra-

 

Dean struggled to cut the memory short, biting his lip and fighting to suppress the panic attack, willing his breathing to even out and his body to stop shaking.

 

John Winchester wasn't here anymore. John Winchester couldn't hurt him.

 

Slowly he got his breathing back under control and he rolled over onto his side so he was face to face with the sleeping man. He thought back to the kiss again, focusing on how good it had felt; the heat, the passion, how right it had felt to fall asleep with Castiel in his arms. Dean had never felt that before, not even with Cassie or Lisa had he felt so totally at peace with another person.

 

Suddenly Dean wanted, needed, to kiss Cas, to remind himself that this was real, that last night had actually happened, as though Cas being here asleep in his bed wasn't proof enough.

 

Dean brought his head forward and touched Cas' lips with his own, reveling in the wave of pleasure that washed over him as he did so. It took a few moments for the sleeping man to respond but soon enough Cas had opened his mouth and Dean had slipped his tongue in and Castiel made a sound that went straight to Dean's groin. He pulled away, terrified of what would happen if they kept going. He really didn't want to have a flashback or panic attack in front of Cas.

 

He moved back, taking in the sight of Castiel's sleepy eyes blinking open, a silly grin on his face.

 

"That is a very pleasant way to wake up." He said, his voice lower and gruffer than ever with sleep.

 

After a moment though, the grin had been replace with a grimace of pain as his ribs reminded him painfully that he had been quite badly injured the previous day.

 

Without a word, Dean retrieved the bottle of painkillers from his bedside table along with his glass of water.

 

"Here." he said, shaking out two and handing them to the injured man.

 

Castiel thanked Dean and took them. Once he was finished with the glass, Dean placed it back on the side table and turning back around.

 

"Let's have a look at how you're healing." He said, grabbing the hem of Cas' t-shirt and helping the ex-angel pull it up and off. Dean checked the other man's ribs, making sure nothing had been punctured and that there was no internal bleeding. Satisfied that everything was healing as it should, Dean looked up to find blue eyes watching him intently.

 

"What?" he asked softly, his fingers lingering on the bare chest, skimming over the smooth skin and Enochian tattoo.

 

Castiel's eyes were intense with desire as Dean's hands stoked over his bare skin. So many sensations were new to him in this form, more intense now that he did not have his grace to absorb and translate the brunt of the information collected by his human vessel.

 

There were many things he could no longer sense. As an angel he could see everything. All the atoms and chemicals and molecules that made up all that there was, the building blocks of the universe, constantly in motion, constantly shifting, growing, changing. He had been able to see too, what the humans saw, the whole picture as it were. That was what he saw now and, though a part of him missed the wider picture, he was much more interested in exploring the flood of feelings he was now experiencing without the filter of his angelic self.

 

He was fascinated by hunger, exhaustion, arousal. How he had felt last night when he had thrown caution to the wind and captured Dean's lips, finally doing what he had spent years imagining. Lying here in the semi-darkness he reveled in the sensation of Dean's hands on his bare skin. How could such minimal physical contact have such a profound effect on his body? He watched Dean hovering over him, eyebrows furrowed slightly as he concentrated fully on Castiel's injuries. A surge of gratitude and contentment, far stronger than anything he would have been capable of feeling as an angel, flowed through him at the sight and he suddenly felt very lucky to have found someone who was so dedicated to taking care of him. Dean may have not been an emotionally demonstrative man, preferring to keep his feelings hidden, but they shone through clearly in his actions; in his determination to keep those he loved safe and his dedication to his family and friends.

 

Dean raised his eyes, catching Castiel's own and the serious expression melted into a peaceful smile.

 

"What?" he asked softly and Castiel noted that he kept his hand on Cas' chest, running his fingers lightly over the exposed skin in a way that was decidedly pleasant.

 

"I was just thinking about how thankful I am to have you in my life." he said, his tone sincere.

 

The words seemed to have an effect on Dean because the hunter dropped his head. Castiel could see colour rising in Dean's cheeks and wondered momentarily if he had said something wrong.

 

"I'm not all that special Cas." he said in a voice that Cas had come to learn meant he was trying to mask his deeper emotions.

 

For a long time Castiel had been baffled by the behavior. After all, why would one want to misdirect one's own emotions? Why did humans never say what they felt? But after over a week of being human, Castiel had come to see that emotions were perplexing and intense and, more often than not, upsetting and, though humans had a lifetime to learn how to interpret and deal with them, perhaps not all succeeded. Perhaps Dean had never learned to deal with the deeper more complex ones.

 

"You are to me Dean." He replied truthfully.

 

Dean looked up, his green eyes full of something that might have been hope and Castiel thought that Dean's emotions were closer to the surface than he'd ever seen them. The expression made the hunter seem somehow much younger. Castiel reached up his hand, caressing Dean's cheek and then pulling the hunter's face down to meet his own in a kiss that managed to express everything Castiel had wanted to say to Dean but hadn't know how. Perhaps it was the same as the way Dean expressed his love through his actions.

 

The kiss ended and Dean rested his forehead against Castiel's, eyes closed, drinking in the moment.

 

The rumble of hunger from Cas' stomach interrupted said moment.

 

"I am in need of sustenance." Cas said in his usual formal style, then added. "I also have to urinate."

 

Dean let out a long-suffering sigh.

 

"First of all, don't ever say that, it's 'go to the bathroom'. Second, what do you want for breakfast, eggs or pancakes?"

 

Castiel frowned.

 

"I have never tried eggs. But I did have pancakes at the shelter and I quite enjoyed them."

 

Dean considered.

 

"Well, we need to broaden your culinary horizons so why don't I just make both?"

 

…

 

Castiel entered the kitchen to find Dean standing with his back to the entrance, mixing pancake batter. He paused in the doorway for a moment to observe the man. He was dressed as Castiel was in a thin t-shirt and sweatpants, socks coving his feet to ward off the cold floors of the underground bunker. Castiel watched, fascinated, as the muscles in his back flexed a worked as he whipped the batter, visible though the thin cotton of the shirt he wore.

 

An idea came to Castiel, a scene he'd seen in some TV show or movie, and he suddenly wanted to know what it would actually feel like, so, stepping forward to where Dean was standing facing away from him, Castiel moved in closer, snaking his arms out and around Dean's torso and pressing his chest flush with Dean's back. He raised his chin to rest on Dean's shoulder and delighted in the rush of endorphins that flooded though him at the contact.

 

Dean started at the unexpected touch but soon relaxed when he realized who it was. He abandoned the batter and moved his hands to cover Castiel's leaning back into the warm, solid body behind him. He chuckled.

 

"Good morning." He greeted.

 

"Good morning." Castiel answered. Dean could feel Cas' deep voice vibrating through the angel's chest and into his back, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure surging through his body.

 

He turned, facing the former angel, still encircled in his arms and brought his lips down to meet Cas'.

 

Cas did not think he would ever tire of this particular activity.

 

They broke apart and Dean brought his hand up to stroke over the week's worth of beard that had grown on the angel's face.

 

"We gotta teach you how to shave. Unless you want to keep this."

 

Castiel scratched thoughtfully at the whiskers.

 

"It is a little itchy and annoying."

 

Dean nodded.

 

"After breakfast."

 

He leaned down to kiss the angel again.

 

A throat clearing sounded from the kitchen entrance. Dean looked up to find Sam standing in the doorway, grinning inanely.

 

"I'm sorry, did I interrupt your little make out session?"

 

"Shut up," Dean shot back, turning back to the pancake mix, "Now get over here and cook the bacon."

 

Sam smiled and rolled his eyes but made his way slowly over to the stove, lighting an element and retrieving a pan before turning to the package of bacon on the counter.

 

"You are walking." Castiel observed, "Are you feeling better?"

 

Sam nodded.

 

"Yeah, I've been getting stronger everyday. Probably won't need the chair much longer which will be nice since most of this place isn't exactly handicapped friendly."

 

Castiel nodded and turned to Dean.

 

"Is there anything I can do?"

 

Dean pulled over a bowl, fork and a dozen eggs.

 

"You can scramble the eggs."

 

Dean finished with the pancake batter and took it over to the stove for Sam to start cooking. When he turned back, he sighed as he watched Castiel peering intently at the egg as he cracked it one handed, letting the white and yolk spill over his fingers and into the bowl.

 

"No not like that…here."

 

He moved to stand beside the fallen angel, showing him the correct way to crack an egg and scramble them. Sam got the bacon and pancakes underway and then turned to watch his brother and Castiel. The change was palpable. Dean was relaxed, smiling; he had one hand draped across the angel's back and was huddled in close to Castiel's space. Sam had never seen his brother physically demonstrative with anyone. Most of the time Dean didn't like to be touched, especially when it wasn't on his terms, and even then only in times of high emotion.

 

Sam hoped this would work. He hoped Dean and Cas could keep this going, that Dean wouldn't sabotage it, unconsciously or not. He knew Dean had many issues to work through and that he would need to talk to Cas about them if they had any hope of lasting.

 

Feeling eyes watching him, Dean turned to find Sam leaning against the stove.

 

"What are you looking at?"

 

"He's looking at you being all cuddly with your boyfriend." Came a gruff, accented voice from the kitchen door. Dean turned to see Crowley making his way over to the coffee machine, "About damn time too."

 

Dean frowned.

 

"What did everybody know?"

 

"Yes." Kevin answered, entering the kitchen with his mom. Crowley stepped forward with a cup of coffee extended towards the prophet. Kevin glared and did not accept the peace offering, instead pushing past the former demon and retrieving his own cup.

 

Castiel exchanged pleasantries with Kevin and his mother and even Crowley, despite the awkwardness of it. Then again, everyone had been a little awkward around Crowley since he'd been cured. The former demon kept mostly to himself, holed up in his room. Occasionally he would emerge for food or a book but even then he was subdued.

 

Breakfast was soon ready and everyone sat down around the table. Castiel was caught up on everything that had happened in the bunker and in turn, Castiel told them all what had happened to him since he fell.

 

"So why are angels after you?"

 

Castiel sighed.

 

"Because they think I was in league with Metatron. They think I know how he cast the angels out and therefore how we might go about opening heaven."

 

"Well, I have the angel tablet. If anyone's going to figure out how to do that it's us."

 

"Until then," Dean added, "You'll stay here."

 

Cas looked around at the unlikely collection of people seated around the table.

 

"Thank you all so much for allowing me to stay. This past week has been…difficult. I hadn't realized how hard it was being human. I know I'll learn a lot from you."

 

After breakfast was cleaned up, Dean took Cas into the bathroom to teach him how to shave.

 

"Alright so first you want to wash your face with warm water to soften the hair."

 

He demonstrated and Castiel followed suit.

 

"Then you want to apply shaving cream."

 

He squirted a dollop onto his hand before handing the can to Cas and spreading the cream over his five o'clock shadow. Once they were both lathered up, Dean demonstrated the correct way of holding a razor and which direction to shave in. Castiel only nicked himself a few times which Dean was hasty to point out was pretty good for his first time.

 

After wiping their faces clean, Castiel picked up the tube of toothpaste and brought it up to squirt into his mouth.

 

"Dude, what are you doing?"

 

Cas looked sideways at him, his tongue sticking out. He pulled it back in hesitantly.

 

"Umm, brushing my teeth?" he said.

 

"Usually you just squirt the toothpaste onto the brush."

 

"Oh," Castiel reddened as he picked up the toothbrush, sounding mortified, "I…I didn't know."

 

"Hey it's okay. Doesn't really matter anyhow, so long as your teeth get cleaned right?"

 

Cas nodded and watched Dean as he applied toothpaste to the brush, wetting it under the tap before bringing it up to his mouth, copying the hunter's actions.

 

Once their teeth were brushed and mouths rinsed, Dean smiled and turned to Cas. He brought his hand up to the other man's newly shaven cheeks, running his thumb over the smooth skin and leaning down to press their lips together. They kissed for a few minutes, tongues exploring each other's mouths before Dean trailed off, kissing a line down Cas' jaw and neck to a spot just under Castiel's ear where Dean stopped because Cas fucking _mewled_ and goddamn if that wasn't hot.

 

He pulled back again, feeling blood rushing south. He didn't know how long he'd be able to continue cutting these make out sessions short before Cas started asking questions. Hopefully the newly-human angel's abundance of naivety would hold him off for a while but not forever. Dean knew that eventually he and Cas would need to 'talk'. He just hoped that when the time came, it didn't fill him with nearly as much terror as it was doing now.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this takes place during 9x04. It basically follows the plot of the episode (with minor details changed and things added obviously) so if some of the dialogue sounds familiar, that's probably because I didn't write it and you're remembering it from the show.
> 
> Enjoy!

Castiel stood in the centre of the department store taking in the massive selection of menswear and feeling hugely overwhelmed as he did so. There was so much choice, too much choice. His experience of humanity up until now had largely consisted of scrounging for the bare minimum and now here he was, rested and fed and preparing to pick out whatever clothes he wanted, and he suddenly had no idea what to do. He looked over at Dean who was watching him.

"Well?" the hunter asked, "Where do you want to start?"

Cas looked back at the racks upon racks of pants and shirts and sweaters and jackets. He looked back at Dean.

"I have no idea."

Dean laughed and then took pity on the guy.

"Alright," he said, leading them over to a display of jeans, "we'll start with the basics."

After breakfast and a few hours spent lounging around the bunker in Dean's borrowed clothes, Dean had announced that Castiel needed a wardrobe of his own.

"It's not that I don't like seeing you in my clothes," Dean explained with a suggestive smile and wink that did strange things to Castiel's body, "but you really should have some things of your own."

So here they were in some mall with Dean throwing clothes at him, a new credit card courtesy of Crowley sitting in the hunter's wallet. This one had his name on it, his real name; Dean Winchester stamped right into the plastic for the first time in his life.

They got a few pairs of jeans, some t-shirts, long sleeved shirts, sweaters, pajamas, socks, and underwear. Dean dragged him to the footwear department to pick out a pair of sneakers and from there they made their way to formal attire.

"Just in case you end up coming with us on hunts." Dean said by way of explanation, then added with a smirk, "Maybe this time we'll actually get a suit that fits you."

Castiel didn't have the heart to tell Dean that he wouldn't be going on any hunts. Ever. He recalled the last time he tried to join Sam and Dean, his time as a third wheel. It hadn't work out well and now that he was human, he would probably prove to be worse than useless.

But he let Dean pick him out a suit anyway and while Dean was trying to decide between blue and black, Castiel fingered the tan overcoat on the mannequin he stood beside. It was similar to his old one but nicer, more fitted. Also it wasn't covered in blood, which was a plus. He missed his overcoat; missed what it had come to symbolize and the memories he had come to associate it with. He remembered when Dean had pulled it out of the trunk of his car after Castiel regained his memories. The way it had been washed and folded, taken care of, the last vestiges of Castiel Dean had to hold onto. He remembered the way Dean would sometimes straighten it when it had become disheveled because sometimes Castiel forgot about the cloths, they were just and extension of his vessel after all and a new concept to him. He remembered how it had felt like a safety blanket after he had taken on Sam's burden, when his mind was unstable, his thoughts elusive, forever flying away from him. He remembered using it to protect himself, arm himself as though, if he could wrap himself up in the old Castiel's coat, he could become that angel again, but better: more compassionate, more astute, less foolhardy.

"I think we should go with dark blue." Dean said finally and Cas dropped the sleeve like he had been burned and turned away. He wasn't that person anymore, that angel. He was a man now, powerless and useless.

He looked up at Dean who was holding out a suit and shirt with such a look of love in his expressive green eyes. No, not useless, not so long as he was responsible for putting that expression on Dean Winchester's face.

They bought the suit as well as a few shirts and ties and the Impala's trunk was filled as they headed back to the bunker, blasting classic rock and singing along; well, Dean was singing, Castiel was trying to learn the lyrics so that he could join in the next time.

...

Sam and Kevin were sitting at the map table when Dean and Cas got back, lugging their shopping down the stairs.

"Hey, how was the – woah." he exclaimed when he saw the mass amounts of bags each man was carrying. "So you guys bought some stuff than?"

"Yeah, you know, the basics. I also picked up season one Game of Thrones figure we're due for a break after everything that happened, I thought we might order some takeout…"

Sam nodded at Dena's suggestive shrug.

"What have you two geeks been up to?"

"Well," Sam said, sitting up in excitement. "I know you're warded Cas and the bunker is the safest place you could be but I was thinking that it might be helpful if we could track the angels. Make sure they don't get too close. Better safe than sorry right?"

Castiel nodded.

"It would also help to know if they were organizing, grouping onto factions."

Dean looked over.

"Is that likely?"

"They are lost, confused, and angry. Angels were not created to have free will like humans. We were created to follow orders. It's what we do best. I think the last few years have proved that we don't do well when we try to lead. I have faith that if the right angel were to take charge, he could unite heaven peacefully. But unfortunately I am not overly confident that the right angel is the one most likely to take power." His tone was sad as he ruminated on his fallen brothers and sisters and his own past mistakes.

Dean nodded, "Well, we'll just have to keep an eye on those dicks. What'd you guys come up with?"

"Well," Kevin said, sitting up, "This thing lit up like a Christmas tree when the angels fell. Turns out, every dot was where a cluster of angels fell. So we were thinking that maybe there was some way to hotwire it to make it track angels."

Dean looked impressed, "You come up with this?" he asked the young prophet.

Kevin looked over at the younger Winchester.

"Actually, it was Sam's idea."

"Awesome," he said, clapping his brother on the back, "So, how would it work?"

"We have no idea." Sam admitted, "At first, I thought the table was the computer but it's not, it's just a part of it. But we found these cables underneath and we followed them. You're never gonna believe what we found."

…

After trying, and failing, to discover how the computer worked or what was powering it, Dean turned to Kevin.

"You have any idea about this stuff?" he asked the former advanced placement student.

Kevin shook his head.

"I was always more of a chemistry, theoretical physics kind of nerd."

"Yeah," Sam added, "and I don't think the men of letters has IT support anymore."

Dean nodded.

"I think I know someone who could help us." he said, standing.

"Charlie?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded.

"Charlie. Come on, I'll call her." He said, taking out his phone as he and Sam left the room.

Kevin turned to Castiel.

"Who the hell is Charlie?"

The former angel shrugged.

"I have no idea."

…

After Sam left to fetch Charlie, who was luckily still in Topeka, Cas and Dean gathered the masses of bags from their shopping spree and Cas started for the room Dean had designated his the night before.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Dean asked.

"My room?" Castiel answered uncertainly.

"Oh, right. It's just, I thought, after last night maybe you wanted to…" he trailed off, face heating.

"Wanted to what?"

Dean sighed impatiently.

"Wanted stay in my room." He mumbled to his shoes.

"Oh." Castiel exclaimed, "Are you sure?"

"Well, if you don't want to that's fine." Dean shrugged, struggling to sound uncaring.

"I would like that." Castiel said, taking a step towards the hunter.

Dean's head shot up and a smile grew where his frown had been.

"Really?"

Castiel nodded.

"Yes."

He slipped past Dean into the room, their room, and smiled, setting the bags he had been carrying on the bed and starting to unpack as Dean cleared space in his dresser.

As Castiel was going through the bags, pulling out clothes and folding them, something caught his eye.

"What's this?" he asked, pulling out the trench coat he had been eyeing.

Dean turned around and his face flushed when he saw what Cas had found.

"Oh that," he said, rubbing his neck self-consciously, "I ah, saw you looking at it, thought you might like it. We can always take it back if you don't I just thought…"

He trailed off.

Cas looked at the coat.

"I do appreciate the gesture Dean it's just…I not that person anymore." He looked up with sad eyes. "I'm not an angel. I can't zap you anywhere, I can't heal your wounds, can't even heal my own." He rubbed at his sore ribs, which were a constant reminder of his now mortal state, "I'm useless."

Dean's face screwed up in anger.

"What? What the hell are you talking about? Hey," he stormed over to the dejected man, grabbing him by the shoulders and spinning him around to face Dean, "You are not useless you hear? So you don't have your mojo anymore so what? I'm human, Sam's human."

Cas looked up with a cold expression.

"But you two have had an entire lifetime to get accustomed to your humanity. I have not. You said so yourself, 'baby in a trench coat' remember?" he said angrily, brandishing the coat that looked so much like his last one.

Dean sighed.

"Yeah I remember and I was an ass to say that because you're not useless. Yeah you may not have your mojo anymore but you've still got all that knowledge floating around in your noggin, that's gotta be worth something and besides you have no idea how much you've helped me just by being here. You are not your grace or your strength or your healing powers. You are you, and that's all you need to be. That's all I want you to be." He sighed, taking the coat from Castiel, "Look, I'm sorry for buying this all right? I'll take it back tomorrow."

"Wait." Cas grabbed Dean's shoulder as he started to turn, taking back the tan trench coat.

"I want to keep it."

"What? Why?"

Cas looked up at Dean.

"As a reminder."

"A reminder of what?"

"Sometimes you forget how important you are to other people, how worthy of love you are and in those times I am there to remind you. This is to remind me that you are here for when I forget."

The words were sappy but, spoken in Castiel's candid manner, cut right through the layers of bullshit that Dean had wrapped around his heart and he couldn't help leaning down and kissing the fallen angel. It wasn't a heated kiss, full of want and desire; it was soft, tender, loving.

He pulled back, staring into Castiel's unbelievably blue eyes.

"Cas I-" I love you. The words caught in his throat. He knew they were true but he just wasn't ready to say them out loud. The only person he'd ever said them out loud to before had been his mom. He cleared his throat to cover up the pause and said instead, "Thanks." It was lame and a cop out but Castiel smiled up at him anyway.

"You're welcome." He looked down at the overcoat still held in his hand, "Thank you for my coat."

Dean smiled and chuckled.

"You're welcome."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't update yesterday, I moved provinces so I'm a little busy and stressed. But here's a new chapter! This is the second half of 9x04 so there will be some familiar dialogue and situations.
> 
> Enjoy!

Dean and Castiel were lounging; waiting for Sam to return with Charlie. Cas was seated at the head of the table on Dean's left, engrossed in a book on fifteenth century alchemy. Dean looked up from the computer, watching him, taking in his eyes as they followed the line of text, the furrow between his eyebrows as he poured all his concentration into the task, his nimble fingers as they moved up to his full, plump lips, a pink tongue darting out to wet them before lowering, sliding the milky page over and then shifting as he resettled in his seat.

He thought about how it felt to kiss those lips and be kissed by them. Waking up that morning to Castiel's sleeping body beside him; his warm, solid presence. How easy it had felt to make breakfast and invade each other's space even with an audience. It had felt so…right.

A jolt of doubt lurched deep within him, a voice, which sounded suspiciously like his father, whispering to him that he would screw it up, that this would not last. After all, how could it? Good things didn't happen to Dean Winchester, he didn't know the first thing about how to be in a healthy fulfilling relationship, of course he was going to wreck this.

Dean swallowed back the fear that was slowly creeping up through his abdomen. He stared at the former angel, looking so domestic and…human slumped in his chair as he read. Dean's heart picked up as he stared at the man, as it always did, fluttering and jumping as he took in his tousled hair and soft lips, lips which were his to kiss freely.

He still couldn't quite believe it.

Dean leaned back in his chair and raised first one leg and then the other, resting them sideways on Castiel's lap and crossing one socked foot over the other. Cas frowned, looking down at his now occupied lap and then up at Dean, tilting his head in a silent question. Dean just smiled and went back to the computer keeping his senses open to the small gesture that sill seemed to contain so much meaning. Cas looked back down at the legs that had taken up residence on his lap and decided that he rather liked them there. Returning to the book, he rested his free hand on Dean's shin, brushing his thumb distractedly over the fabric of his pants as he continued reading.

They stayed like that until the door to the bunker opened and a familiar head of red hair appeared.

"Here it is!" Sam announced as they came down the stairs.

"Hey!" Dean greeted, standing and moving over to give the red headed nerd a hug.

"Wow." she commented after pulling away, "you guys got roommates."

She glanced at the small crowd that had formed at her arrival, interest piqued by Sam and Dean's description of their computer genius friend.

"Yeah." Sam said, stepping around her to make introductions, "Charlie, this is Kevin Tran, Prophet of the Lord, Kevin this is Charlie Bradbury, computer hacker and LARPer extraordinaire."

"Wow, Prophet of the Lord. Sounds important and awesome." she smiled, shaking his hand.

"Important yes, awesome, not so much." Kevin replied.

"And this is Kevin's mother, Mrs. Tran."

She rolled her eyes.

"Please, Linda's fine." She took Charlie's hand, "It's lovely to meet you dear."

Charlie smiled, "You too."

"And this," Dean spoke up, "is Castiel."

Charlie broke out in a grin of recognition at the name.

"As in the Angel of the Lord Castiel? Trench coat wearing, sarcasm impaired, 'I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition' Castiel?"

Cas frowned.

"Well, I am no longer an angel but that is a surprisingly accurate description of me yes."

If possible, Charlie's grin widened. She glanced at Dean.

"I was right, he is dreamy."

Dean grinned and threw his arm around Cas' shoulders, pulling him in close.

"I know right?"

Charlie's eyes widened, flicking between the two.

"Wait, hold up. Are you two…" she trailed off, punctuating the unspoken words with a suggestive eyebrow raise.

Castiel smiled, looking up at Dean with open admiration in his eyes while Dean's face warmed and reddened from the scrutiny. He cleared his throat.

"So anyway, thanks for coming."

Charlie looked like she wanted to ignore the question but she relented and let Dean change the topic. The look in her eye however clearly said this wasn't over.

…

"So…Dean." Charlie said as she sat rewiring the antique computer.

After an engaging conversation about the makeup of the vintage console, Kevin had gone off to continue his translation of the angel tablet and Sam was in the kitchen with Cas teaching him how to make sandwiches. Dean was sitting on the floor against one of the many consoles that lined the walls of the room keeping the hacker company as she geeked out over the computer.

"What?"

She glanced over at him with a suggestive eyebrow raised.

"Cas! Details!"

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Cas and I are together." He said, still not quite able to believe it himself despite having said it out loud.

Charlie let out a little huff of impatience, "And?"

Dean shrugged, "And what?"

Charlie scoffed and muttered something under her breath that sounded like, "Men."

She turned and sat cross-legged facing Dean.

"I read every single one of thoseSsupernatural books Dean Winchester and from what I gathered, you are a straight-as-they-come, dyed in the wool, womanizing, heterosexual man. So what? Is this and 'experiment'? A 'phase'? A 'wing kink'? Or have you always been a friend of Dorothy?"

Dean sighed and dropped his head back against the consol.

"Let's just say, me and Cas aren't a 'phase'." He hedged.

Charlie's eyes widened then narrowed.

"So what about the whole 'I like frisky women' thing? Was that real? Or were you just so far inside the closet you were fighting the white witch with Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy?"

Dean looked at her blankly.

"Narnia?" she rolled her eyes, "I am so wasted here."

"I like women." Dean stated.

"But also hot angel boys with endless blue eyes the colour of the Indian Ocean." She trailed off, a wistful look on her face before frowning and shaking her head.

Dean shot her a wry smile.

"Yes."

"So you're bi?"

Dean shrugged.

"I suppose so."

"Or are you pan? Because 'multi-dimensional wavelength of celestial intent'? Sounds pretty pansexual to me."

Dean's face screwed up in confusion.

"What are you-?"

"Hey, how's it going in here?" Sam asked, entering the room with Castiel right behind him bearing a tray piled with sandwiches.

Sam moved over to see what Charlie was doing and the two struck up a conversation as Castiel moved over to Dean, sitting down beside him and holding out the food with a proud smile on his face.

"I made them myself." He pronounced.

Dean looked between the food and Cas a smile growing on his face.

"Did you just bring me a plate of sandwiches that you made for me?" Dean asked with slowly growing love and adoration in his eyes.

Cas looked down at the food and then back up at Dean.

"Yes." He said, confused as to why Dean was stating the obvious.

"You are the best boyfriend ever." He smiled, leaning over and planting a kiss on Cas' surprised face.

An excited high-pitched squeal sounded from across the room and Dean pulled back to stare at Charlie who had her hand over her mouth to hide a beaming smile.

"I'm sorry." She said, "I'm just shipping you two so hard right now."

…

"Wow! That Joffrey's a dick!"

As a way to kill time while waiting for Charlie's program to decrypt the files, Dean, Cas, Charlie, Sam, and Kevin had all piled into Sam's room to marathon the first few episodes of Game of Thrones. Dean, Cas, and Charlie ended up on the bad, Castiel sandwiched in between the hunter and the nerd but soon found himself pulled into Dean's side, head resting on his shoulder and snuggled in close to his side with Charlie throwing them the same look she got every time she saw an adorable cat video. Cas didn't seem to notice and Dean pretended not to see.

"Oh! You have no idea. Wait until he-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Sam interrupted, holding up a hand, "Spoilers. I haven't read all the books yet."

"You're gonna read the books?" Dean asked derisively.

"Yes, Dean. I like to read books. You know, the one without the pictures in them?"

There was an awkward silence which, thankfully, Charlie broke.

"Man!" Charlie interrupted, "This bed is about as comfortable as a brick."

"Yes." Castiel confirmed, "Dean's bed is much comfier. It's memory foam."

There was a pause during which Sam and Kevin looked like they were desperately trying not to picture how exactly Cas came to know this, while Charlie looked like her smile might snap if it got any wider.

"So Charlie, how do you know so much about, like Cas and everything?" Kevin asked having picked up on her throwaway comments to the two hunter brothers.

"Well you know, I read the books."

Kevin frowned.

"Which books?"

"The Supernatural books." She said as though that explained everything.

Kevin looked at her blankly.

"Like, the books in the library here?"

"No, the books that Carver Edland wrote about these two." She gestured to the two hunter brothers.

"Someone wrote books about you guys?!"

"They were the work of the prophet who came before you." Castiel explained, "He received visions and was compelled to write them down as narratives. They are referred to as the Winchester Gospels."

"What?!" Charlie exclaimed, spinning around to face the former angel, "Carver Edland is a prophet?"

"Actually his name was Chuck Shurly." Castiel corrected.

"The prophet Chuck?" Charlie asked disbelievingly.

"So all this guy had to do was write down his dreams?" Kevin asked, "Man why couldn't I have been that kind of prophet."

"Actually the visions were pretty painful," Sam explained, attempting to alleviate the current prophet's feelings, "Chuck said they felt like migraines. Also they seemed to strike at unknown intervals, at least you can choose when to read the tablets and when not to."

Kevin nodded.

"Yeah that does sound pretty bad."

"So what happened to Chuck?" Charlie asked.

Dean and Sam looked at Castiel.

"I am unsure. I was 'out of the loop' as you say for quite a while. However, there can only be one prophet at a time which would suggest that Chuck is no longer with us."

The room was silent as they ruminated on the unknown fate of Chuck before Charlie once again broke the uncomfortable mood.

"So Sam, any plans on moving in any time soon…?"

The happy, relaxed (albeit slightly argumentative) atmosphere of the bunker broke when it was revealed that Dorothy and a very pissed off mute Wicked Witch had been released from some binding spell and were currently running amuck.

…

Crowley moved silently through the halls of the underground bunker back to his room, back to the silence and isolation.

He had been avoiding the rest of the inhabitants of the bunker, partly because he knew they wanted him to, but partly also because every time he looked at Sam or Dean or Castiel or Linda Tran, he remembered the countless times he had used, abused, and/or betrayed them. And Kevin. Kevin's scarred, jaded eyes that had once been so wide and innocent. He was responsible for those eyes. He could remember snapping his girlfriend's neck for no other reason than because it caused the prophet pain. He had cut his finger off, kidnapped and tortured his mother, pursued him relentlessly, held him captive…

Crowley stopped, closing his eyes and pushing the memories away. He knew he could not dwell on them; could not get lost in them because he knew if he ever did, he would not get out. The collective memories of countless centuries of pain and torture in hell, coupled with all the deeds he had done first as a crossroads demon and then as King of Hell, whispered to him during his waking hours and came out to play when he slept, disrupting his slumber with nightmares, and torturing his existence. He was crumbing under the weight of all he had to make up for and a part of him knew that no matter how hard he tried he would never truly gain redemption for all that he had done.

But he had to try.

He continued on, turned a corner, and came face to face with the one and only Wicked Witch of the West.

She turned her head as she caught sight of him and opened her mouth.

Crowley ran.

Through the labyrinthine corridors of the underground bunker he ran. Around one of the corners he collided with Linda Tran. Not having time for an explanation, he grabbed her by the upper arm and dragged her along with him.

"What?!" She yelled as she tried to wriggle out of his grasp, "Get your hands off me! What are you doing?!"

"Run!" He yelled by way of explanation.

He did the same to Kevin whom he found a few hallways later. The little blighter put up more of a fight than his mother but eventually Crowley got them into the safety of the dungeon.

They stood in the dark and silence, panting.

"What the hell is going on?!" Kevin yelled.

Crowley shushed him and his mother slapped him on the arm.

"Don't swear." She turned to Crowley. "Tell me what is going on!" she demanded, "Why are we in here?"

"There is a wicked witch running rampant through the bunker." He explained.

"A what?"

"A wicked witch." He enounced, "The Wicked Witch of the 'I'll get you my pretty and your little dog too' variety."

"Like the Wizard of Oz?" Kevin asked, clearly not believing a word Crowley said.

Before he could answer, a figure appeared in the doorway.

"Hello lovely." Crowley said in his low gravelly voice.

She continued forwards, picking up the pace before her foot touched the outer ring of the inlayed devil's trap and she leapt back as though burned.

"Sorry," He said with false apology, "this box is warded against everything, even wicked witches. Big fan, love your work."

She opened her mouth but no words came out, just rasping sounds.

"What's the matter darling? Cowardly lion got your tongue?"

She hissed in anger, her eyes glowing green and, without thinking, Crowley stepped in front of the mother and son, holding his arms out and shielding them with his body. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest; despite the fact that he knew they were safe while in the circle, Crowley couldn't help but be painfully reminded of his own reinstated mortality.

"Right." He said with forced calm and apathy, "Enough chit-chat." He spun around and grabbed the notebook and pen that the prophet still had clutched in his hand, ripping a blank page out and turned back, "You must be here for a reason. Write it down, so daddy can help."

He wrapped the pen in the paper and threw it to the witch who caught it deftly, scrawled something on it, and threw it back.

Crowley looked at the 'key' scratched inexpertly on the crumpled paper.

"Key." He commented, "Keys are kept in the kitchen love."

The witch stared at him for a beat, her head tilted as she considered the veracity of his word before presumably deciding he was telling the truth and disintegrating into a tornado of green and grey and disappeared into the air vents.

Crowley waited for a beat before turning to the Trans.

"Stay here. Do not move out of the circle understand?"

They nodded mutely.

"Good." He said before moving out and searching for the hunters to inform them of the witch's quest.

…

Sam and Dean's guns came up instinctively when Crowley appeared in the doorway to the ransacked kitchen. Charlie and Dorothy had just returned from the armory with four poppy bullets and they were just distributing them when the former demon appeared in the entrance, out of breath and hands raised in supplication.

"Crowley!" Dean shouted, annoyed. He did not need him thrown into the mix.

"Crowley?" Charlie perked up at the familiar name, "As in the demon? The King of Hell?"

"He's a demon?" Dorothy asked, reaching for her flash of holy water.

"Former demon, former King of Hell!" Crowley protested.

"Not possible." The huntress countered, splashing a liberal amount of the blessed water on him.

"It's true." Dean confirmed when nothing happened.

"Now isn't the time!" Crowley interrupted, wiping the excess water from his face, "You have a wicked witch running around your precious bunker looking for a key!"

"Key? What key?" Sam asked.

"The key to Oz." Dorothy said, explaining what it did and showing them a drawing of it from her journal.

Dean recognized it from the inventory that was currently sitting somewhere in his room.

"How did you know?" Castiel spoke up staring inquisitively at the former demon. The rest of the group turned at the question and Crowley noted Dean's grip tightening around his gun as he brought it into a low ready position.

"She told me." Crowley answered.

"How are you not dead?" Dorothy asked.

"I was in your dungeon. Place can keep anyone out including our new guest."

"Wait you have a dungeon in this place?" Charlie asked before shaking her head, "Of course you do."

Dean considered the answer before finally nodding and relaxing his stance.

"Alright. Sam, you go with Dorothy. Find the Tran's and get them to the dungeon-"

"Already there." Crowley interrupted, "I ran into them on the way. They're safe."

Dean's expression seemed to indicate that a non-evil Crowley was seriously messing with his fundamental view of the world.

"Alright. You go back there and don't come out until we come and get you, Sam and Dorothy, you go buy us some time. Cas and Charlie, go to the dungeon with Crowley and wait there."

"What?!" "Dean!" Cas and Charlie protested simultaneously.

"No arguments you two, I don't want you to get hurt."

"I am not hiding!" the ginger haired nerd argued.

"And I don't want you to get hurt. I'm staying with you." Castiel countered.

"Cas-"

"I'm staying. With. You." He said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Dean contemplated arguing further but they couldn't afford to waste time.

"Argh! Fine." He said in a voice that he knew sounded childish and petulant. He turned his gaze on Charlie.

"A wicked witch? A key? A quest?" she beamed and clapped him on the shoulder, "Let's do this!"

Dean glowered but sighed and turned to Crowley, glaring at hm. The man held up his hands in supplication.

"No argument from me. I'd rather not die."

…

Dean, Cas and Charlie were in Dean's room rooting around through the paraphernalia he'd managed to accumulate, looking for the key.

"Ha!" Dean exclaimed when he finally managed to locate it. "Yahzee."

Cas turned and spotted the witch standing behind Dean with her hands outstretched.

"Dean!"

The hunter turned and, quick as a flash, the hag reached forward and snatched the key from Dean's grasp.

Cas rushed forwards to push Dean out of the way when he found himself picked up by some invisible force and thrown bodily into the concrete wall of the bunker. The witch turned, raising hand swathed in sickly green light but Dean already had his gun up and aimed, getting a shot off and clipping her shoulder before, with an almighty screech, she disintegrated once more and vanished back the way she had come.

Dean turned and rushed to the fallen angel lying crumpled and still in the corner of his room.

"Cas? Cas!"

He groaned as he stirred, "That was unpleasant," he murmured and Dean let out a sigh of relief as Sam came barreling into the room, gun at the ready.

"Dean? Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He answered, helping Castiel sit up. The angel groaned as his already abused body protested at the movement. Dean's hands came up to cup Cas' face, "Hey, look at me."

Cas blinked open his eyes and obediently stared up into Dean's concerned ones. Dean glanced from one to another, checking for signs of a concussion. Cas groaned again and brought his hand up to where his skull had smacked against the wall. Dean swatted his hand away and moved to check it himself.

"You're gonna be okay. You've got a pretty good goose-egg but you should be fine." His body sagged at the words and he pulled the other man into a relieved embrace burying his face in the dark tousled hair.

"I told you to stay in the dungeon."

Cas wrapped his arms around Dean in a comforting hug.

"If I had you'd be dead now."

Dean scoffed and pressed a quick kiss to his hair before helping him stand and turning to his brother.

"The witch, I clipped her with a poppy bullet but she has the key." He said, guilt and shame colouring his voice, "I think she's gone."

"No," Dorothy said, appearing in the doorway, "she's wounded, we may still have some time, she could still be in the air vents."

"Well what are we waiting for?" Charlie asked, cocking her gun.

Cas moved to stand, wincing as he did. Dean helped him up, laying a steadying hand on his back as he swayed.

"Cas, you gotta get to the dungeon. You're hurt, you'll just slow us down."

Cas looked up into Dean's eyes, he saw fear and concern and love radiating from them and his head swam as another dizzy spell overtook him.

He nodded.

"Alright Dean, so long as you promise to be safe too."

Dean smirked.

"Of course I'll be safe." He leaned down and laid a soft kiss on his lips before turning to the others.

Dorothy was looking at them with an expression of surprise mixed with something else…longing? There wasn't time to dwell on it.

"Sam, you take the girls and go after the witch. I'll take Cas to the dungeon and meet up with you.

…

In the end it was Charlie who vanquished the Wicked Witch of the West, which she proudly exclaimed with a sassy, "Ding dong bitches."

Kevin, Cas, Linda, and Crowley were retrieved from the dungeon. Linda giving the former demon a small nod in appreciation of his efforts to keep them protected, an action which stunned Crowley seeing as how he could never have believed the prophet's mother would or could forgive him for what he had done to her. Kevin however, continued to ignore him as per usual and eventually, the now human King of Hell skulked back to his corner of the bunker before anyone else had a chance to thank him for his role in the day's events. It had been enough that Linda had acknowledged him, it gave him hope that maybe he could make a small dent in the mountain of 'Things He Had to Make Up For'.

Once it was all over with, Dean, Cas, Dorothy, and Charlie, found themselves in the straightened up kitchen enjoying Dean's homemade burgers and listening to Dorothy regale them with tales of her adventures in Oz, the real stories. Kevin and his mother had retired to their rooms having had enough excitement for one day, and Sam had crashed after the adrenalin rush that had sustained him though the entire ordeal died down and was passed out in his room.

"…so then we ended up burning the forest down so that we wouldn't be killed by the apple grenades the trees were launching at us." Dorothy finished her story to silence while Dean nodded appreciatively at the top-notch hunting, Castiel frowned in interest and confusion, not having any context for the story, and Charlie just looked devastated as yet another piece of her childhood was overwritten.

Once they finished, Dean got up to do the dishes and Castiel joined him. They stood close, invading each other's space and occasionally sharing an intimate moment or touch as they cleaned the plates.

Charlie noticed the looks Dorothy kept throwing them, assuming the worst as the huntress turned and regarded the redhead.

"They are very…open about their relationship." She said hesitantly and Charlie had an indignant and self-righteous rant poised on the tip of her tongue when the other woman continued, "Is that sort of thing accepted now?"

And suddenly Charlie understood and she knew that the look she had seen in hunteress' eyes had not been discomfort or scorn, it had been yearning.

"Yeah." She nodded taking Dorothy's hand, "I mean, we still have a ways to go. There's still a lot of objection and homophobia but it's not taboo anymore. Gay people can even get married, in some states."

Dorothy gaped at the information and her gaze drifted as she struggled to take it all in.

"Wow." She breathed, "And here I was still trying to get used to the fact that you're not a secretary."

She smiled and Charlie smiled back.

"In my time it was hard enough just getting taken seriously as a woman, let alone a…"

"Lesbian?" Charlie supplied and Dorothy's cheeks reddened before her face split into a grin.

"It's very…freeing to be able to speak so openly about it."

Charlie nodded.

"I understand. Even growing up in this day and age it's a difficult thing to come to terms with."

Dorothy cocked her head.

"Are you…?"

Charlie nodded.

"Yeah."

Dorothy smiled.

"You know? I think I'm going to like the twenty-first century."

…

They stood in the garage, Charlie humming with excitement at the prospect of going on a journey to Oz with Dorothy.

"Take care of yourself boys." She said, holding back tears that were part sorrow at the idea of leaving and part unbridled excitement at the quest that lay before her, "Dean," she added, pointing and accusatory finger at the hunter, "don't screw this up." She ordered, gesturing to him and Cas, "And Castiel, don't let Dean screw this up."

She gathered them both in a tight hug before stepping back.

"I expect to be maid of honour at your wedding when I get back."

Ignoring the puzzled frown from Castiel and the shocked look from Dean, Charlie turned to give Sam one last hug before turning and passing through the doorway into Oz, a blinding smile on her face, off on her next big adventure.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during 9x06.
> 
> Trigger!Warning: Attempted Suicide, please read with caution.

It had been weeks, weeks since anything of interest had happened and Dean was beginning to climb walls. Sam was getting better but was still weak, and Kevin, despite having his mother around, was feeling the stress of trying to decipher the angel tablet in order to find some way of getting the angels back to Heaven. Crowley was his ever-evasive self, still keeping to his room, although Cas had begun to visit him every now and again.

Cas.

Things had been going well between them. His physical injuries were healing well and the dark purple bruises that had marred his ribcage had now faded to a sickly yellow. Dean had begun to give the fallen angel weapons training and self-defence lessons so that the now-human Cas could defend himself and Dean could sleep easy.

He still had not had any nightmares, he and Cas were getting along and falling into a comfortable rhythm, and nothing had tried to kill them recently.

And Dean was sick of waiting for the other shoe to drop, so he went out and scoured newspapers and the Internet and finally, finally came up with a half-decent lead.

"Hey!" he announced, bounding into the library and pulling on his jacket as he went, "I caught a possible case. Rexford, Idaho. Bunch of people have gone missing from their homes and a strange substance has been reported at the scene."

Sam looked up with a frown.

"That's not much Dean, are you sure it's worth the drive?"

Dean shrugged.

"You never know, might be worth a look-see." He clapped Castiel on the back, "You comin'?"

Cas looked up from the book he had been reading with an uncertain look on his face.

"I don't know, Dean."

Dean looked taken aback.

"What? Come on Cas, you're not gonna make me do this alone are you?"

"Why doesn't Sam go with you?" he suggested, gesturing to Dean's brother across the table who, while he no longer looked like a strong wind might knock him over, was still not quite up to par in the health department.

"Because Sam's in no state to go hunting." he explained, sending an apologetic glance Sam's way. He pulled up a chair and sat down facing the former angel who was studiously avoiding Dean's gaze. "But you already knew that." He sighed, "What's going on Cas?"

Sensing an imminent private conversation, both Kevin and Sam vacated the library, leaving the hunter and his angel alone.

"I just…I'm not going to be much use to you Dean." Castiel explained.

"What are you talking about? Of course you are."

"Dean-"

"Come on." Dean interrupted.

"What happened to me staying safe in the dungeon?" Cas asked, turning his gaze on Dean.

"What happened to you not wanting to stay safe in the dungeon?"

Cas sighed and looked back down at the table, fingering the pages of his book.

"Come on." Dean urged, "You don't have to come on the hunt, just come with me. Keep me company. After all," he continued, reaching over to trace the line of Castiel's clavicle where it peeked out of his collared shirt "it's a long drive to Idaho and if this does turn out to be something, I may have to stay over night." He leaned forward to whisper in Castiel's ear, "I'd hate to have to sleep all alone in some motel room all by myself."

Castiel shivered and glanced over at him, chewing his bottom lip as he deliberated.

"Okay." He finally conceded, and Dean smiled and pecked him on the lips in response, clapping him on the back as he stood.

"Sammy!" he yelled as he dragged Cas to their room to pack him an overnight bag, "We'll be back in a few days!"

…

"That's your 'Big News'?" Sam asked, staring at the page of indecipherable symbols, "That you translated the tablet into…doodles?"

Dean and Cas had been gone for a few hours when Kevin had come bounding into his room to tell him the 'Big News'.

"It's cuneiform." Kevin explained.

Sam shot him a look that clearly said that that was not an explanation.

"Hey!" Linda Tran yelled, smacking Sam on the arm, "Don't talk to my son like that! Do you know how hard he's been working to translate your stupid tablet?"

Sam pouted and rubbed his arm. For such a tiny person she could really pack a punch.

"Sorry." he apologized.

"It's alright." Kevin said, "I hit a wall translating the tablet into English. But I found an ancient codex linking the angel script into proto-Elamite cuneiform, and I was able to translate the tablet and the footnotes into Elamite, which is…"

"Doodles?" Sam supplied, stepping away from Kevin's mom as she sent a glare his way.

"It's extinct."

"Well, can you read it?"

Kevin shook his head.

"No one can. Scholars have tried for centuries."

"So it's a dead end?"

"Not quite. Now, most proto-Elamite is abstract, but I was able to decipher one phrase from Metatron's footnotes. 'Falling angels'."

"Okay, so the footnotes refer to Metatron's spell?"

"Maybe."

"Okay, well maybe if we can decipher the footnotes, then we can reverse the spell." He said, moving to the shelf and pulling out several volumes of 'Zimmerman's Encyclopaedia of Extinct Languages' and the three of them sat down, to start attempting to decipher Kevin's 'doodles'.

…

Dean pulled his baby into the pump station at the first Gas n' Sip he saw, stepping out as Cas did and moving over to the fuel door.

"I don't understand, why is it only the driver who gets to pick the music?" Castiel asked as he moved around the car to stand by Dean.

"Because those are the rules Cas." Dean said by way of explanation.

Cas frowned.

"Is this another 'Rules according to Dean Winchester'?" He asked, bringing his fingers up in air-quotes to punctuate his words.

Dean looked up at the now-human angel.

"What?" he asked.

"It is something Sam explained to me. He said that there are widely accepted rules of society and then there are 'Rules-'"

"All right, all right." Dean said, reaching out to grab Castiel's hands as they came up again, "I get it."

"Well?" Cas asked.

"Well what?"

"Are they?"

"Are they what?"

"The 'Rules according to-'."

"Yes! Yes they are!" Dean yelled, interrupting the other man.

"Oh, okay." Castiel nodded, lowering his hands and watching in fascination as Dean filled the car with gas, before following him into the store and over to the coffee urns.

Castiel watched as Dean poured cream into his coffee and then picked it up, stirring it with a wooden swizzle stick as he blew on the hot beverage, and mimicked his every move. Dean lifted the stick out of his coffee and drew it across his tongue to divest it of any excess liquid in a move that entranced Castiel and sent strange shoots of heat through his body. Then Dean turned to the trashcan and aimed, tossing it and watching it sail through the air before it landed silently in the receptacle.

"Yeah." Dean cheered, "High five!"

He turned to Cas and held up his hand, palm forward and paused. Cas frowned in confusion as he looked from Dean's hand to his face, sensing that he was meant to be doing something but unsure what that something was.

"Hit my hand, Cas." Dean said.

"But I don't want to hit you, Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes and exhaled loudly.

"Lightly, Cas."

Cas frowned again.

"Come on, you have to – it's the rules."

"Is this-"

"This isn't the 'rules according to Dean'." Dean said quickly before the air quotes could make a reappearance, "This is proper society rules."

Cas looked sceptical but raised his hand dutifully and tapped it against Dean's. Dean smiled and lowered his hand and Cas felt proud of himself for doing it properly and pleasing Dean.

He looked down at the stick that was still in his cup and lifted it, drawing it slowly across his tongue as Dean had, before turning and tossing it at the garbage can, feeling an unexpected thrill of accomplishment when it sailed in.

"Awesome." Dean said.

Cas smiled and turned, raising his hand.

Dean chuckled and slapped it.

"Here," he said, fishing some bills out of his wallet, "go pay, I'm gonna check in with Sam."

Castiel took the money to the counter where a harried-looking blonde woman seemed to be having some sort of verbal altercation over the phone.

"I'm sorry, Gary, but my regular sitter couldn't make it and I don't have a replacement. Can't we just reschedule? I'm free-" She stopped talking and pulled the phone away from her ear, staring at it before scoffing and pressing the end button angrily before setting it down on the counter with a frustrated "Men!"

She turned and caught sight of Castiel standing awkwardly at the register.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she apologized, moving over and ringing everything up, "My date cancelled on me because I couldn't get a sitter," she sighed, "probably not worth the makeup anyway."

She smiled, but her eyes remained sad.

"I'm sorry." Castiel offered by way of comfort.

The woman, Nora as her nametag read, smiled and handed him his change.

"Thank you."

Castiel nodded and then raised his hand.

"High five."

Nora stared for a second before raising her hand slowly and slapping his.

He smiled at her before departing the convenience store. She watched him go with a bemused look on her face.

"See, why can't I meet a nice guy like that?" she asked herself. She watched as he walked to a shiny black car where another man had just finished on the phone. They shared a quick kiss before getting in and pulling out onto the road. Nora sighed wistfully, "That's why."

…

"So Kevin translated the tablet into cuneiform?" Cas asked as Dean pulled out of the gas station, having been updated on the goings on at the bunker.

"Yeah, proto-marmite or something."

"Elamite?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

Cas nodded.

"You know it?"

"Yes, but unfortunately, I am not there to translate it."

Dean nodded.

"Crowley, however is; he could help decipher the text."

Dean looked uncertain.

"I don't know how well Kevin's going to react to that idea."

"Dean, we need to get the angels back to heaven."

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

…

"Dean-"

"Look Sam, I know it ain't ideal, but I don't know how long this is gonna take, and he's your best shot since you're getting nowhere with those big ass encyclopaedias and Professor Morrison is unreachable. Besides, he helped with the witch."

Sam sighed. They'd gotten nowhere translating the tablet themselves and Sam knew their best bet was Crowley.

"Yeah, I guess it's worth a shot. How's it going over there?"

"Four victims suddenly exploded. I tried EMF. I've looked for hex bags, sulphur; nada."

"Spontaneous combustion? Maybe the Thule?"

"No, no, no. I already ruled them out. The bodies were vaporized. They weren't burned."

"Alright, well, good luck."

"Yeah."

Dean pocketed his phone and opened the door to the motel room they'd rented; setting the takeout he'd picked up on the table. He glanced over at Cas, who switched off the TV and stood from the bed.

"So?" he asked, moving to the table and inspecting the food, "Is this your kind of thing?"

"Four people exploded, and I mean vaporized." He said moving to the bathroom, not having been able to bathe between arriving at the motel from their fourteen-hour car ride and showing up at the scene.

"I'm gonna take a shower, feel free to eat, I'll be out in a sec."

Once Dean was clean and he and Cas were seated around the table, he bit into his burger asking, "How was your day?"

"I watched something called 'Keeping up with the Kardashians'." He frowned, "Why are we expected to keep up with them? They do not seem to serve any purpose to society."

Castiel seemed to consider this dilemma intently as he idly chewed his burger. Dean considered trying to explain it to him but found he couldn't come up with any plausible reason.

His phone rang and Dean set his food down to answer it.

"This is Agent Lee Ermey…I'll be right there." He hung up and looked over at Cas, "There was another kill, over at the high school. You coming?"

Castiel finished chewing his food and swallowed, shaking his head.

"Dean, without my powers, I'm no use to you." he said softly, his eyes fixed on the table as he traced the patterns in the linoleum.

Dean sighed and rested his hand over Cas', ceasing his movements.

"So? I've never had powers."

"You're a hunter."

"And you're a hunter-in-training. Remember?"

"Yeah, I remember." He lifted his gaze, his blue eyes piercing, "You said I sucked."

Dean sighed and sat back.

"I didn't say that," he countered, "I said there was, you know, 'room for improvement'."

Castiel shot him a withering glance over the table.

"Come on." he said, on the verge of begging.

Castiel sighed.

"Okay." He conceded.

Dean grinned.

…

"No!"

Sam sighed.

"He's our only shot Kevin."

"No!"

To say that Kevin was resistant to the idea of bringing Crowley in to help with the translation was putting it lightly. Currently he was sitting in his usual chair in the library, arms crossed as he stubbornly refused to budge on the point.

"Kevin." Mrs. Tran said softly.

"What?" Kevin barked, reddening under his mother's stern look, "…Sorry, Mom."

Linda shook her head and sat down.

"It's all right, Kevin." She said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, "But I think Sam is right."

"But-"

"You don't have to like him, or forgive him. Just accept his help."

Kevin seemed to deflate under her rational words.

"All right." he said softly.

…

When he had finished interviewing the moody teenaged girl, he looked around for Cas who was nowhere in sight. When he found him hunched over the Impala, Dean's stomach lurched and he rushed over, excusing himself hastily to the sheriff.

"Cas? What's wrong?" he asked, concern colouring his tones as he laid his hand on the other man's shoulder.

"I've seen this before." He said softly, not raising his eyes from where they were fixed on the car's hood.

"What? Where?"

"In heaven." He finally looked up at Dean as he turned to face him.

"What, are you saying an angel did this?" he asked, gesturing towards the bus.

"It's no ordinary angel. Dean, this is bad. This is very bad."

Cas looked shaken, his brow furrowed and his eyes troubled. Dean led him to the door, encouraging him into the passenger seat before rounding the hood and plunking himself down behind the wheel. They sat in silence while Dean waited for Castiel to speak.

Once Castiel was finished explaining that they were dealing with a Rit Zien and what exactly that was and what he was, in all likelihood, doing here, Dean sat back in the leather seat, trying to digest the information.

"So…everyone's fair game?"

Castiel nodded.

"All right, well, we gotta stop him."

Cas shook his head.

"You have to stop him."

Dean looked over at Cas who broke eye contact and looked away. Dean frowned.

"You're scared." he said, finally understanding why Castiel hadn't wanted to come on the hunt in the first place.

Cas sighed.

"It's different now, Dean, everything's different."

"What about when were fighting the witch?" Dean asked, "You didn't seem scared then."

Cas looked down and fidgeted.

"Sometimes I forget…that I'm not an angel anymore, and all I want to do is protect you, like I used to." he looked over at Dean, pain shining through his blue eyes. "But I'm not, Dean…I'm human." he said softly.

Dean considered his words. To go from an all-powerful heavenly being full of grace and righteousness to just another grunt tethered to the earth; to fall from grace the way Castiel had, perhaps he was right. Perhaps he wasn't ready for this.

Dean nodded. "You're probably right. All right, I'll drop you off at the motel and then I'll track down this Kevorkian wannabe and I'll put him down."

"Okay." Cas agreed, shame at his own fear and weakness creeping through him.

...

Sam stood for a moment outside Crowley's door before knocking and waiting for permission to enter.

Crowley looked dishevelled and tired, bags darkening his eyes and his clothes hanging off his noticeably thinner frame. His hair was lank and his cheeks were covered in at least a week's worth of growth. All in all a startling change, since Sam had been avoiding the former demon and so hadn't seen him in a few weeks.

"Moose." he said softly, and without his usual grit, "What brings you to my neck of the art deco bunker?"

"Kevin's translated part of the tablet into a dead language. We were hoping you could help us read it."

Crowley looked taken aback.

"You want my help?" he asked suspiciously.

"Uh, yeah." Sam said, not at all comfortable with the situation. "Can you read Elamite?"

Crowley shrugged.

"Well, it's by no means my favourite of the ancient tongues, but yes. Yes I can."

…

The sheriff called with an update on the case once Dean was back on the road after dropping Cas off. The first victim's husband's DNA had not been present in the sample sent to the lab and he and Dean were currently pouring through the guy's case file down at the station.

"He was already a bit screwy, but then he found religion. She was a hard-line atheist, no peach herself. When he got himself obsessed with this buddy Boyle wackjob, an already bad marriage got worse. Kept telling her to 'let God in'."

"Buddy who?" Dean asked.

In answer, the sheriff brought him over to one of the computers and hit play on an already loaded video file. As it turned out he was the 'Reverend Buddy Boyle', a charismatic evangelical preacher with his own 'Going for Glory hour'.

"When the angels come a knocking, you just let 'em on in." he preached.

Dean's stomach churned.

"How many people is this reaching?" he asked.

The sheriff pulled up the map from the Going for Glory website and Dean's fears rose with every little red place marker that popped up all over the world.

"Son of a bitch." Dean muttered angrily as he glanced down at the file. A picture caught his eye and he picked it up, his stomach giving another lurch as he stared at the photograph of the happy couple standing in front of the car.

"Is that his truck?" he asked, already knowing and fearing the answer.

"Yup." the sheriff confirmed.

"Cas." Dean breathed as he threw down the file and tore out of the station seeing clearly in his head the same truck parked right beside his baby in the parking lot of the motel where he'd left Cas. Alone.

...

A knock sounded at the motel door. Thinking it might be Dean or perhaps the management, Castiel moved over and opened it, revealing a face he recognized from battles past: The Rit Zien, Ephram.

"Hello Castiel." he said in his calm, soothing manner, a trademark of the medics; calm in the face of all suffering.

"Ephram." he greeted, not moving to allow the angel entrance.

"You remember my name." The Rit Zien looked awed. "I was just a nobody when we met, but you, you were a legend." He glanced around at the motel and parking lot. "You've been here before." he looked back at Castiel who was still blocking the doorway, "This is my first time and it's…intense."

"You know," Castiel explained, "there's a lot you don't understand about humanity at first. If you would just stop-"

"Stop?" Ephram interrupted, his brow creasing as he failed to comprehend Castiel's plea. "I won't stop until I wash clean the planet of all suffering."

Castiel sighed, knowing it was futile to try to reason with the angel.

"What are you doing here Ephram?" Cas asked.

Ephram cocked his head and frowned as though he was surprised Castiel didn't already know.

"I am here for you, Castiel."

Cas felt his heart rate speed up as Ephram's purpose came to light. He weighed his options as he stood blocking the entrance to the room. He did not have the power to keep Ephram out, even without his wings, the Rit Zien had the strength to knock the door down and enter as he pleased. So instead, he stepped back, allowing the angel inside while he made his way surreptitiously over to his jacket where the switchblade Dean had given him with an imperative to keep this on you at all times sat.

Ephram began to speak and Castiel encouraged him, trying to buy what little time he could as he sliced his palm open and began to draw the angel banishing sigil. Unfortunately, Ephram caught on before he could finish and Castiel found himself kneeling in front of the angel, his wrist pulled back and back and back before the angel twisted it sharply and Castiel gasped as pain exploded in the appendage.

…

Kevin was less than pleased about having to be in the same room as the former king but nevertheless allowed him access to his notes.

"'Obtain the ingredients'," he read, "'heart, bow, Grace.' Blah, blah, blah. 'Mix until the smoke shall rise from the ashes casting the angels from heaven.' Blah, blah, - Oh." He lowered the page and glanced up at the other occupants of the room. "It's irreversible."

"What?" Sam asked.

"The spell can't be undone. The new world order, we're stuck with it."

There was silence and then Kevin spoke.

"You're lying." he said, staring at the ex-demon with eyes full of hatred.

"I'm not." Crowley said truthfully.

"You're lying!" Kevin yelled, standing and slamming his hands down on the table.

"Kevin!" Linda shouted, grabbing her son and attempting to calm him down.

"Get out of here! We can't trust you! Just get out!" The prophet continued to yell as Crowley cut a hasty exit back to his room.

Crowley leaned against the door once he had closed it, tilting his head back to rest against the wood. He closed his eyes. He felt a tear escape from the corner and wiped it away, staring at it with bewilderment. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried, except, of course, the other day when he got a bit weepy watching Breakfast at Tiffany's. He looked around the room that had become his haven since his newly restored humanity had rendered him a target for every demon that hadn't made it back to hell before the gates shut for good. And he thought about his insurmountable uphill battle to redeem himself to those he had hurt, tortured, killed.

Who was he kidding? There was no way he could ever make up for all that he had done. All the souls he had bought, all the people he had corrupted. He thought about Kevin's anger. The kid had a right to be angry, furious. He thought about the Winchesters. Sure they let him stay, but only after he had provided them with his vast accumulated wealth and knowledge. He thought about the friends of theirs he'd killed just to get at them; the sheriff he'd nearly succeeded in killing and the pretty brunette he had succeeded at. And he thought about Castiel who knew a thing or two about redemption and who had begun to visit him out of what pity? Genuine care? What did it matter? He was never going to succeed.

Why was he even bothering?

…

Ephram let go and Castiel instinctively pulled the injured limb in towards his chest before he pulled it out again slowly to inspect the damage.

"I want to live." Castiel ground out in between the lances of pain that were shooting outwards from his wrist.

"As what, Castiel?" Ephram asked as he towered above the kneeling mortal, "As an angel? Or a man?"

The door to the motel room burst open and Dean came barging in, angel blade at the ready but Ephram sent him careening into the wall with an idle gesture where he crumpled and lay still.

"Dean!" Cas yelled, his physical pain diminished by the sight of his partner lying, unmoving, in the corner.

"You say you want to live." Ephram continued, ignoring Dean, "But you can't see what I see. By choosing a human life, you've already given up. You. Chose. Death."

Ephram raised his hand, sickly pink light radiating from it as he extended it towards Castiel's forehead.

From the corner of his eyes, Cas saw movement, a glint of silver, and Dean slid the angel blade across the linoleum. Quick as a flash Cas caught it in his good hand and then he was driving it into Ephram's belly. The Rit Zien screamed, light pouring out of his eyes and mouth as he died.

"Cas? Hey, you okay?" Dean asked as he scrambled across the room, over the angel's body to where Castiel knelt, clutching his injury.

"Yes, I'm fine." he assured the hunter.

Dean let out a relieved breath and pressed a kiss to Cas' forehead before reaching out to inspect his injured wrist.

Cas hissed in pain as Dean prodded it as gently as he could.

"Sorry, sorry." He said, tone apologetic, "Okay, it's not broken, just sprained. Here." He guided Cas up and over to the bed, settling him down before grabbing the first aid kit and sitting back down beside him and beginning to wrap it up.

As he did, Dean told Cas what he'd learned about how Ephram's host had allowed the angel to possess him, and about the Reverend Buddy Boyle.

"That makes sense." Castiel commented, watching in awe as Dean wrapped his wrist up, his hands, which could be so brutal in a fight, were nimble and gentle as he tended to Castiel's injury. Cas could imagine Dean as a child, patching Sam's wounds up, his heart breaking with every pained noise that sounded from his younger brother's mouth, "Angels need permission to possess a host, and using the media of today to acquire vessels is shrewd thinking. I wonder whose idea it was?"

"Whoever it is, we gotta find him and stop him before more people get hurt."

Dean finished wrapping the wrist in silence, taping off the bandages and gathering the supplies back into the bag before he looked up to find tears trickling silently down Castiel's cheeks.

"Cas? What's wrong?" he asked, reaching up a hand to cup his cheek and swipe the pad of his thumb across the skin, banishing the tears.

"Everything is so different." Castiel said, repeating his words from earlier. "As an angel, our Grace protects us when we take possession of a human body. It acts as a buffer between the physical sensations of the body and our own angelic perceptions. It dulls pain, regulates the body, and cushions emotions. We still feel them but they are…dull, distant. They do not control us. The longer I stayed down here and in this form, the stronger those feelings got but now…now I am exposed, vulnerable, and I don't…I can't…"

His voice cut off as a painful lump formed and a few more tears escaped. Dean lowered his hand and rubbed it soothingly over his shoulder.

"I feel so weak and helpless. Everything hurts." He looked up into Dean's eyes, his own glossy and bloodshot from the tears, "I used to be an angel Dean. I miss being an angel. I miss heaven and I miss hearing my brothers and sisters and I miss flying." His gruff voice softened to a whisper, "I miss my wings." His gaze wandered. "Sometimes I think I can still feel them; their weight. How good it used to feel to stretch them, to feel the air on them as I flew. I miss the wind and the sky and the freedom. I miss my home, Dean."

He looked back at Dean.

"Don't get me wrong, I love being here with you. If I didn't have this to anchor me I'm not sure what I would do, but I still miss heaven. And this pain; I have tried to do as you do, to push it away and ignore it, but it only seems to multiply when I do and I don't think I can do it anymore. How do you keep from feeling this way, Dean? How do you manage it?"

Dean felt his heart break for the man and pulled him in tight.

"Don't do that Cas, don't start off on the wrong foot, and for God's sake don't become me." He pulled back and rested both his hands on either side of Cas' jaw bone, "Just, tell me when you're feeling low and I'll help you alright? I want to help you."

And with that the dam broke and everything Castiel had felt since he had come crashing down from heaven rushed out in a deluge of pain and tears and grief. He let out a choked sob and Dean pulled him in, letting his head rest against his shoulder. He wrapped him in his arms as the other man wept into his jacket, broken sobs wracking his form as his body sought relief from the build-up of emotions he was not accustomed to and had not yet learned to control. It took a good five minutes for the fallen angel to finally calm down, sobs turning to tears turning to sniffling, and that's when Dean let go enough to reach over and grab the box of tissues from the nightstand, holding them out to his partner and rubbing a soothing hand up and down his back as he wiped away the remnants of the spectacular breakdown he'd just had.

Dean leaned forwards, pressing their foreheads together as his hand idly played with the short hairs at the nape of Cas' neck.

"How're you feeling?" he asked softly.

Cas sniffed.

"Tired," his voice was rough from the tears, "but good…lighter."

They pulled apart and Dean moved his hand to Castiel's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"Yeah, it's good to let it all out sometimes." he said, realizing how hypocritical he sounded.

"Why don't you do it more often then?" Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged.

"Listen, I don't want you keeping this all in anymore all right? You feel something, you come tell me, got it?"

Castiel nodded his agreement, and then frowned

"How do you do it? Bottle everything up?" His tone was genuinely curious.

Dean sighed.

"It's just the way I was raised, you know?" he said, trying and failing to keep his voice aloof, "My dad never really had much time for tears. Not from me anyway. I had to be strong, had to keep Sam safe."

Castiel considered Dean's words.

"If I have to promise to talk about my feelings, then you do too. It's only fair."

Dean's stomach rolled in discomfort at Cas' use of the phrase 'talk about our feelings', but nevertheless, he nodded.

"Okay." he agreed, wondering as he did so whether or not he would be able to keep that promise.

…

They prepared for bed, changing into pyjamas and brushing teeth in comfortable silence, and once they were settled in the bed they stared at each other through the dim light that filtered in through the thin blinds.

Dean reached out and ran his fingertips lightly over Castiel's cheek before leaning in and kissing him. Castiel responded, sucking in a breath through his nose and sliding closer along the sheets, bringing one hand up to tangle in Dean's short, dark blonde hair while the other snaked around his back, drawing him closer.

Ever since Castiel had first kissed Dean, all their kisses had ended the same way: with Dean eventually pulling back and either going to sleep or off to do something else, leaving Cas feeling frustrated and unsatisfied and he had been ruminating on the possible reasons for this behaviour. He understood that after kissing came sex and he also knew that Dean was no stranger to that particular act, nor was he particularly shy about it given his proclivity for it. So what was it? Castiel knew that, prior to him, Dean's sexual partners had been exclusively women, leading him to conclude that the problem was with his gender. But Dean hadn't been averse to kissing him.

The thoughts flew out of his head as Dean's tongue entered his mouth and an explosion of pleasurable sensation rushed through Castiel's body, sending blood rushing southwards. Cas let his hand slip down to where Dean's shirt ended, lifting the thin cotton and brushing the hot skin underneath. Perhaps tonight was the night. Perhaps Dean had just been 'taking things slow' as they often said in movies, 'waiting for the right time'. Maybe now was the right time.

Dean pulled back and Cas opened his eyes, watching the hunter as he smiled back at him, pecked him softly on the forehead, and gathered him into his arms.

"Night, Cas." he said softly.

Castiel lay with his head on Dean's chest, listening to the other man's heart thumping loudly and feeling the familiar disappointment flood in once the pleasure had dissipated. Perhaps now that Dean had promised to come to him with his problems, he would be able to get to the bottom of this. He just hoped that whatever he was doing wrong was something that could be fixed.

He closed his eyes that were still worn out and stinging from the all the bawling he had been doing earlier, unease settling in his stomach, and he dropped off quickly, wrung out from the stress of the day and the worries of the future.

…

The bunker was quiet when Dean and Cas returned. Sam, Linda, and Kevin were in the library looking exhausted as they continued to hit dead ends with the cuneiform translation.

"What did Crowley say?" Castiel asked as he set his bag down and moved over to the crowd.

"He said it was irreversible." Sam said, glancing warily over at Kevin, whose face was set in stone.

Castiel picked up the sheet, looking at it for a good five minutes before setting it down and sighing.

"He was right. This says there is no counter spell. It also suggests that my Grace is likely gone for good."

Silence followed this declaration as everyone digested the news and implications.

"Someone should probably go say sorry to Crowley for not believing him." Linda said, looking pointedly at Kevin who crossed his arms defiantly and steeled his jaw, giving off a clear signal that that 'someone' would not be him.

Castiel stood.

"I will go." He announced, knowing that of all the bunker's current inhabitants, he was the one who understood what Crowley was going through the best.

While Cas was gone, Dean started to help Sam tidy up the mounds of books that littered the table, having sent Kevin and his mom off to get some sleep. He was in the middle of setting books back on the shelves when Castiel's panicked shout sounded through the Bunker.

"DEAN! DEAN, COME QUICKLY!"

Dean dropped the books, not looking back to see where they fell as he tore out of the room, following the frantic yelling. He nearly ran headlong into Castiel as he turned a corner, grabbing the shorter man by the shoulders and checking him over for injury.

"What? What happened? Are you hurt?"

Castiel shook his head, trying to catch his breath from his mad dash for help.

"No, I'm okay, it's Crowley." He said between breaths as Sam skidded to a halt behind them, followed a second later by the Trans who had been roused by Castiel's shouts.

Without explaining farther, he turned and ran back the way he had come, heading for Crowley's rooms with the four of them close on his heels.

The sight that met their eyes when they piled into the room was not what anyone had expected. The former King of Hell lying prone and pale on top of the bedspread, crimson blood pooling beneath a long gash that had been cut lengthways into his bare forearm.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge kudos to Rainbow Fruit Loop over on FF.net for Betaing!
> 
> Trigger Warning: This episode contains discussions of rape and suicidal themes
> 
> Here it is, 'The Talk', I hope you like it. Takes place during 9x07
> 
> Enjoy!

Castiel wound through the halls of the bunker until he reached the door, knocking lightly and calling out to the occupant.

"Crowley? It's Castiel."

He waited. When he got no response, he knocked again.

"Crowley, please, I would like to speak with you."

Still no answer. Cas tried the handle and found it open.

"Crowley?" The door swung open silently on well-oiled hinges. The room was filthy, clothes strewn everywhere, plates of mostly eaten meals sitting on every available surface, and in the middle of it all, lying on an unmade bed, was Crowley, with blood pumping from a gash that ran the length of his left forearm, and a bloody knife clutched loosely in his other hand.

Once he had gone for Dean's help, Castiel sprinted back into the room, falling to his knees on the bed and planting his hands over the wound, ignoring his injured wrist in favour of applying pressure as he tried desperately to keep the precious bodily fluid where it belonged - inside the body of the former demon.

…

"He'll live." Dean said tiredly, dropping onto the bed beside Castiel, who had already changed into his pyjamas and was sitting propped against the headboard staring at his hands in silence.

Sam and Dean had managed to stop the bleeding enough to stitch up the wound; roughly, but enough so that Crowley wouldn't bleed out. He hadn't woken as of yet and they had moved him to a room closer to where everyone else was in order to keep a better eye on him.

Castiel nodded.

"Perhaps I should go sit with him…"

Dean shook his head and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Sam's already volunteered. You've had a long few days, why don't we just try to get some sleep, huh?"

Cas nodded, his expression still dazed as he continued to stare down at his hands, tracing the blue lines that snaked up his arm from his wrist. Dean shifted and placed his hands over Castiel's forcing the blue gaze up to meet his.

"How could he do it?" Cas asked softly, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Dean sighed. He did not have any answers to explain what had just happened.

"I know how fragile the human body is, how easy it would be to just end it all. And yet the more time I spend in this form, in this mortal vessel, the more I find myself clinging to life. The desire to continue to survive is so strong." Cas turned his head to look at Dean with confused eyes, "I don't understand, Dean."

Dean pulled him in, planting a soft kiss on the messy dark brown hair before turning his head and resting his cheek on it, rubbing lightly at Cas' shoulder.

"What about last year, after purgatory. What you said then."

_If I go back, I'm afraid I might kill myself._

"I was an angel when I said that Dean. Life meant something very different to me then. As did death."

They sat in silence for a while, Dean running his fingers through Cas's soft hair and Cas tracing the pattern of Dean's T-shirt.

He rested his hand, fingers splayed, over Dean's chest, feeling the comforting pounding of his heart in his chest.

"I don't want you to die, Dean."

Castiel's voice was small, quiet, almost childlike, and Dean slid down the bed and turned so that they were lying face to face. Cas' eyes were large and bright despite the dimness of the room. Dean reached out and cupped his cheek.

"I don't want you to die either, Cas." he whispered.

"But one day we will." The fallen angel said.

Dean nodded.

"Yeah, but not for a while if I can help it."

"How do you deal with it?" Cas asked.

Dean frowned.

"Deal with what?"

"Knowing that one day you, me, everyone, everything will die? And not just knowing it, but feeling it. How do humans manage such a burden of knowledge?"

Dean shrugged and shook his head.

"We just…do."

Castiel let out a frustrated sigh.

"Don't worry, Cas. Everything will seem better in the morning."

"How?" he asked, his voice almost inaudible as Dean reached to turn the light off.

"You'll see." he said, gathering the man in his arms; trying to extend some comfort to the frightened and confused fallen angel who was asking questions Dean didn't have the answers to.

…

Sam glanced up from his book as the figure in the bed began to stir. Crowley blinked open his eyes and lay staring at the blank ceiling for a long moment. Finally, Sam broke the silence by holding out two white pills and a glass of water.

Crowley looked over at the movement and glanced at the offering before turning his gaze back upwards in refusal.

"Come on, Crowley, you just slit your wrist open. You're going to need these."

Crowley glanced back at the little white pills and then up at Sam's face before pushing himself into a sitting position and taking them, swallowing them down and chasing them with the offered water.

"Thank you." he said in a quiet, subdued voice.

Sam nodded and placed the empty glass on the bedside table, and turned back to the man.

"Why'd you do it, Crowley?"

The former King of Hell shot a withering glance at the younger Winchester's question.

"Is it really that big of a mystery?" he asked.

Sam sighed and shifted forwards, leaning his forearms on his lap.

"Look, I can't pretend that there isn't a part of me that wishes you were dead after everything you've done, after Sarah…" he trailed off at the mention of his dead friend. Sarah whom he had loved and who, in another life, could have been more, "But I thought that in that church we made a deal, to see it through. Forgiveness? Absolution? It is possible."

Crowley chucked dryly.

"Do you really believe that, moose?" he asked, his gaze penetrating, "Do you honestly believe that there is any hope of redemption for me?"

His tone and expression were cold and uncaring, but still Sam could see the pain that dwelt just beneath the surface, ready to surge up and drown the man at any moment.

Sam paused, and in the silence, Crowley nodded resignedly.

"Look, just don't do it again, okay? I may not like you, but I don't want you to die. And I don't really want to have to stitch you up again either. So can I have your word that you won't try it again?"

Crowley sent him a long stare as he deliberated before nodding.

"You have my word."

Sam sent him a dubious look and Crowley sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I swear on the grave of my son, Gavin Macleod, I will not attempt suicide again."

Sam frowned, but nodded regardless, deciding to leave the subject of Crowley's long dead son un-discussed.

"By the way, Cas read the cuneiform and he said the same thing you did, that the spell was irreversible. So thank you, for helping and not lying, and I'm sorry we didn't believe you."

Crowley gave him a hard look before nodding.

…

When Crowley next woke, Castiel, sainted Castiel, Dean's boy-toy Castiel, was sitting in the chair the giant had been occupying when he'd fallen asleep.

"You're awake." The fallen angel observed unnecessarily.

"Brilliant deduction." Crowley shot back, "You're a regular Sherlock Holmes you are."

Castiel frowned at the reference.

"Really? Arthur Conan Doyle? Nothing?"

Castiel's expression remained impassive.

"Jesus," Crowley said, running a hand over his face and through the beard that had grown on his cheeks in his inattention, "You need some serious lessons in pop culture, you know that?"

There was silence before Castiel spoke.

"I do not understand." He said.

"Sherlock Holmes is a detective created by the English author, Sir Arth–"

"I was not referring to the reference, Crowley."

Crowley glanced sideways at Castiel whose expression was a mess of confusion and turmoil.

Crowley raised an eyebrow.

"Are you telling me you never felt suicidal because of the things you did?" The former demon asked the former angel. "The people you killed, the angels you smote?"

Castiel sighed.

"There was a time I felt as though it would be better to just end it all, but I was an angel then, not a human. Now, I can feel my heart beating in my chest and air rushing into my lungs as this body works to sustain itself." he shook his head, "How can you give it all up?"

Crowley lay back against the pillows and sighed.

"I've already lived and died Castiel and I didn't do a terribly good job as a human the first time around. How can I expect to do a better job this time? Especially with so much to make up for."

Cas sighed and shook his head. He didn't speak. There was nothing to say.

…

Kevin hovered outside Crowley's room, deliberating on whether or not to go in.

Crowley had woken a few days ago but according to Sam and Dean, hadn't said much apart from a forced promise to never do it again. Kevin had been avoiding the Demon cum human but, at his mother's insistence, was here now.

He raised his fist to knock, but lowered it without making a sound.

He sighed.

He hated Crowley with a passion; the capture, the torture, the pursuit, Channing. Kevin closed his eyes. He could still see the casual, uncaring way Crowley had snapped her neck as he had escaped in the Impala. He struggled to control his breathing. The familiar rage surged through him at the memory of his now-dead girlfriend and how pointless her death had been.

How could he forgive the man after that?

But seeing him, pale and unmoving, with blood pouring from self-inflicted wounds was still fresh in his mind and he knew he had to at least talk to the guy, if only to understand why he had done it.

He steeled himself and raised his fist, rapping out a few knocks on the door.

Castiel opened the door.

"Hello Kevin." he greeted.

"Hey, do you think you could give us a minute?" he asked, gesturing to Crowley who lay propped up by pillows on the bed, looking about as surprised as Kevin felt at the prophet being there.

"Of course." Cas said softly, nodding to Crowley before departing.

Kevin shut the door behind him and turned to the man on the bed.

"Come to finish the job?" he asked in his rough accent.

Kevin frowned and took the seat vacated by Cas.

"No." he said tersely.

Crowley nodded and they lapsed into an awkward silence that seemed to stretch to infinity.

"You're such a coward, you know that?" Kevin finally said, words bursting from him as he sat forwards, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

"And why do you say that?" Crowley asked, his demeanour calm in the face of Kevin's rage.

"Because you're running away from your problems. Taking the easy way out, that's why."

Crowley huffed out a laugh.

"So you think I tried to kill myself," the prophet flinched at the words, "because I wanted relief from my suffering? Because I wanted peace?" He leaned forwards, his gaze intent, "Tell me, Kevin, if I were to die, where do you think I would go, hmmm? To heaven, to eternal rest, to sit beside the throne and sing praises to God everyday and wander around in a white robe with a harp?" he scoffed, and sat back against the pillows that propped him up looking away, "No. No matter how hard I try, no matter how much good I do in the time left to me, I will never be able to make up for what I've done. So I thought I would save everybody the inconvenience of being here and dispose of myself for you. Hell is the only place I belong."

Kevin stared at the man on the bed, considering his words before standing and moving to the door.

"You're wrong, you know." he said as he paused, turning back, "You may have done terrible, horrible things. You may have tortured and maimed and killed. You may have bought and damned countless souls, but none of that means you don't deserve a chance at redemption. And it doesn't mean you deserve to go to Hell. Not if you want to make up for it."

He turned, opening the door and allowing Castiel back into the room, leaving Crowley to ponder his words.

…

Crowley showed no signs of attempted suicide as the days passed and eventually he was left to his own devices once more, albeit with a markedly improved number of visitors and invitations to join in the various gatherings about the bunker, if only so they could keep a better eye on him.

Sam looked up from the book he had been reading at the sound of soft footsteps. Castiel was hovering in the entryway to the library, fidgeting and shuffling his feet.

"Hey, Cas, do you need something?"

The former angel seemed to deliberate for a few moments before making up his mind and stepping into the room.

"Yes." he said in his usual gruff, terse tones, pulling a chair out and sitting.

Sam waited for him to elaborate but he didn't say anything, just sat and pondered the table with a look of intense concentration.

"Okay." Sam said after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, "Did you want to talk?"

"Dean and I have not yet had sex." he said suddenly, turning his intense gaze up to meet Sam's.

Sam stared back.

"Umm."

"From what I have observed of Dean's sexual exploits up until now, that is not normal."

"R-right, uh."

"I am concerned that my body's gender is…off-putting to your brother. He seems to enjoy kissing but whenever we move further, he pulls away. I just need to know if it's me, if perhaps I'm doing something wrong. I never thought…" Cas lowered his gaze to the table, tracing the grain of the wood. "I never imagined I would be able to have this relationship with Dean. He always seemed so closed off despite our…bond. But now…" Sam watched as a small smile graced the former angel's mouth and his eyes softened, "Now I cannot imagine life without him." He turned his gaze once more on Sam. "If I ruin this, like I've ruined everything else I have touched, I…" his gaze dropped in shame, "I don't want to have to continue on without it…without him."

Sam closed his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. Of course Dean hadn't talked to Cas and of course Cas would blame himself for not knowing what to do. It was a wonder the two of them had made it this long.

"Listen Cas, Dean has some…issues, which he really should be talking to you about. But they have nothing to do with you all right? You aren't doing anything wrong, Dean's just an idiot."

Castiel still looked uncertain.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Sam smiled.

"Cas, I've never, and I mean never, seen Dean this relaxed or happy or content. I didn't even think it was possible for my brother to be like this. And that's all because of you."

Cas' cheeks flushed at the praise and his mouth turned up in a small smile.

"Don't worry, Cas, I'll knock some sense into my brother."

"Thank you Sam."

…

It was a few hours later that Dean wandered into the library, picking up his phone charger where he had left it lying on the table and plugging in his phone to power up and Sam leapt at the chance to question his brother about his boyfriend.

"So, Cas, talked to me today."

Dean glanced up.

"What? Why?"

"I dunno, maybe because you two have been together for over a month and you haven't moved past second base?"

Dean's face flushed and seemed to deflate and he sat back in his chair.

"Why didn't he come to me about it?"

"Because you give off this vibe of never wanting to talk about anything, and Cas is too scared of disappointing you or losing you to push you."

Dean sighed and ran a hand over his forehead and down his face.

"Shit." he muttered.

"Dean? Does this have anything to do with…Dad?"

Dean shot him a look, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth before nodding minutely and looking away and down at the table, his arms wrapping around his torso in an unconscious gesture of comfort.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sam said, knowing that those were seven words that Dean loathed more than anything.

Dean sent him a glare that clearly said 'No' but then he let out a sigh and shifted awkwardly in his chair.

"I'm…scared," he said, his words coming out stilted as though he was having to force them out. "I don't…I can't screw this up." He looked up at Sam, eyes intent, "Not with Cas."

Sam took in a breath, gathering the courage to have what he knew was going to be an uncomfortable but necessary conversation with his emotionally stunted brother.

"Dean, have you ever…with a guy…you know…since…?" He filled the unspoken words with vague gestures and looks that he hoped would convey his meaning without him having to actually say the words _have you had sex with a guy since Dad sexually assaulted you_ out loud.

Dean looked like he wanted to murder Sam for bringing it up but he sighed, he would do this. He would have this incredibly uncomfortable conversation with his brother. For Cas.

"Sort of." Dean answered and Sam raised his eyebrows in an unspoken invitation for Dean to elaborate. The older Winchester sighed and sat back in his chair, tapping his hand on his legs and averting his eyes.

"When you were at Stanford I ended up in San Francisco alone and, I dunno," he shrugged, "I figured, if I were to…experiment, no one would have to know."

The two brothers both knew that by 'no one' Dean meant 'Dad'.

"So I went to a bar, picked up a guy, and we went back to my motel room."

"And?" Sam said, not sure how graphic Dean was planning on getting but hoping, praying, he wouldn't be too detailed.

Dean took in a deep breath.

"We kissed and uh…stuff. It felt…good, really good. But then we got a little farther and I…I started to remember dad and what he did and how it had felt…I started to panic. I couldn't breath and I was shaking." He let out a breathy laugh, "I think the other guy thought I was having some sort of seizure. He left pretty quick."

"And you're worried that that'll happen with Cas." Sam inferred.

Dean nodded, not looking up.

"Look man, I don't even know how you managed to keep that secret for as long as you did and I can't even begin to understand how hard it was for you to tell me and Bobby about it, but you have got tell Cas, man. Aside from the fact that he deserves to know what he's getting into, I really think it'll help you."

Dean shot him a look that said he understood what Sam was saying, but he was reaching his chick flick quota for the century. Sam sighed and then frowned.

"Wait a second," he said, backtracking, "What were you doing in San Francisco?"

Dean shrugged.

"You think I let you go off to College without checking up on you? Please."

Sam looked at his brother. His big brother who always looked out for him and put him first. Who, despite the fact that they left on bad terms, had still made the effort to drive across the country to make sure that he was okay. He smiled.

"Wow, Dean, I-"

"Seriously dude, whatever you're about to say, don't."

The younger Winchester smiled wryly at his older brother.

"Thanks Dean."

"Shut up."

"Whatever, just go talk to your boyfriend because, apart from anything else, I really don't want to have that conversation with Cas ever again."

Dean sighed, but nodded.

"Yeah, you're right."

He stood but didn't move.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, I'm going." he said, making his way toward the hallway that led to the rest of the bunker.

Sam sighed as he watched his bother go, praying he wouldn't screw this up.

A buzzing sound interrupted his musing and he looked down to find Dean's cell vibrating as it announced an incoming call.

He picked it up and answered it.

"Hello?" an unfamiliar voice sounded down the line, "I'm sorry, there's no D-dog—"

Before he could finish, Dean had snatched the phone away from his ear.

"I got it, I got it." he said by way of explanation, before turning and putting the phone to his ear, "Sonny, hey….So what's up?…Okay…All right…Yeah, just sit tight, I'll be there as soon as I can…Yeah."

He hung up the phone.

"So what was that all about, 'D-dog'?"

"Remember when we were kids that spring in upstate New York? Dad was on a rugaru hunt. We uh…we crashed at the, uh…the bungalow colony with the ping-pong table?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. You disappeared. Dad came back. You were gone. He shipped me off to Bobby's for a couple of months and went and found you. You were lost on a hunt or something."

Dean nodded.

"That's what we told you. Right."

Sam frowned.

"I'm sorry, that's what you _told_ me?"

Dean fidgeted.

"Truth is uh…I lost the food money that Dad left for us in a card game. I knew you'd get hungry, so...I tried taking the five-finger discount at the local market and got busted. I wasn't on a hunt. They sent me to a boys home."

"A boys home, like a… a reform school?"

Dean shrugged.

"Yeah, more or less. It was a farm, and the guy who ran it, Sonny, he uh, you know, looked after me."

"Wait," Sam said, putting the pieces of Deans story together with the phone call he'd just heard, "does Sonny know what we do?"

"Yeah." Dean nodded, "He's good people. I gave him the number to the Bat Phone and sounds like he's got something in our wheelhouse, so… You going to be cool to do this? Or are you still too tired?"

"Uh, no. Yeah, I'm just, uh…I'll be fine."

Dean looked pointedly at him.

"You sure? 'Cause even if Cas does want to come, this sounds like something I might need your back up on."

"Dean, I'll be fine. I've been feeling much better recently. I'll go grab my stuff. You tell Cas."

"Yeah."

"Hey Dean?" Sam asked, turning around. Dean stopped and looked at him. "Why didn't you just tell me you went to a boy's home?"

Dean shrugged.

"I don't know, it was Dad's idea. And then it just, you know, the story became the story. I was 16."

He turned to leave.

"Oh, and Dean?"

He looked back.

"Don't think this gets you out of talking to Cas."

Dean rolled his eyes and departed without a word.

Sam stood in the empty library contemplating what he'd just learned. Why had his father lied to him? And if Dean had been in one place the whole two months, how come it had taken John Winchester that long to find him? He may have been an awful father but he had been a damn good hunter, surely it wouldn't take too much investigating to find his son - especially if the authorities had been involved. In fact, if Dean as a minor had been caught shoplifting, John would have been notified immediately. So why had it taken so long?

Sam thought about it as he moved to his room to pack. Something told him there was a lot more to the story than Dean was letting on, as usual.

…

It took some convincing to get Cas to come along with them, and soon enough Dean found himself standing in a house full of memories, and Dean, Sam, and Cas found themselves investigating an enraged spirit that was killing people on the farm.

After a few false leads, and the tragic and ultimately unnecessary demise of a child's beloved action figure, the three of them managed to gank the ghost, or at least Tommy did, and the two hunters and the fallen angel got ready to say their goodbyes and head back out on the road, Dean hoping to get a few hours of driving in before stopping for the night.

Castiel was making his way out of the house, having used the facilities before the long drive that lay ahead of them, when he turned a corner into the hallway and nearly ran down Robin and Tommy as they stepped inside the entryway.

"Oh!" he said as he narrowly avoided a collision, "I apologize."

Robin smiled and shook her head as Timmy moved past him into the sitting room.

"It's okay."

Cas moved around her to the door but Robin stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, ummm." Cas stopped and turned, "Take care of Dean okay?"

Cas frowned.

"How did you...?"

Dean and Cas hadn't really announced their relationship, too busy hunting and fighting a ghost to talk.

Robin rolled her eyes.

"Please, I'm not blind. I can see the way two you look at each other."

Cas smiled and blushed.

"I will endeavor to make Dean as happy as I can for as long as he'll have me."

Robin smiled.

"Good, he deserves that." She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Cas found Dean and Sam saying goodbye to Sonny by the Impala and made his own farewells to the man.

"Take it easy man." Sonny said to Dean as he made his way back to the house before turning around.

"And Dean, take care of that boyfriend of yours, he's worth keeping around."

Dean gaped at Sonny's retreating back as Sam grinned and Cas frowned.

"Did everyone know?" Cas asked.

"You guys are pretty obvious." Sam said as Dean rounded the car to the diver's side.

…

They drove in silence through the darkness. Sam was dozing in the front seat, Castiel had his head pressed to the window in the back, watching the stars and the dark outline of the trees as they rushed passed, and Dean was lost in thought as the Impala's headlights lit the never-ending road that stretched out in front of them.

He thought about the house they had just left and the memories that had come back to him as he'd walked the halls. He'd never had a home to go back to apart from their house in Lawrence and, of course, his baby, but coming back to that place and being inundated with half-forgotten scenes, memories he had pushed down when he'd walked out of that house the last time, ripping himself away from the first chance he'd had at a happy normal life. It had been intense and thought provoking.

He remembered that moment when he'd looked out of the window and caught sight of Sam hanging out of the of the Impala, playing with the plastic plane that Dean had gotten for him out of the charity present box last Christmas (he didn't consider it stealing, after all the presents were for children who needed them and Sammy had definitely needed, no, deserved a present).

For two months he had been free of the responsibility of looking after his little brother, a job he had been given as a child – hadn't asked for, hadn't wanted even – and he had loved it. The freedom to just be himself without constantly worrying about where Sam was and if he was safe. Just focusing on himself and what he wanted. And then he had felt instantly guilty about loving it because he _did_ want to be responsible, he _did_ want to keep his little brother safe. He just didn't want to have to do it. He wanted it to be a choice, not an obligation.

And he had desperately wanted to get away from his dad.

Hell, Sonny had been more of a father to him in two months than John Winchester had been to him his entire life. Sonny had taken an interest in him, had pushed him to excel in school, had gone to his wrestling competitions and had cheered for him. Sonny had told him he was proud of him. And just now, as they were leaving, Sonny had acknowledged his relationship with Cas in such an offhand, casual manner, as though it was no different from any other relationship, as though it was normal. As though it was acceptable.

Dean hadn't wanted to go back. But he also couldn't leave Sammy. Not there. Not with _him_. Because at least if Dean was around he could keep an eye on his father and look out for his little brother.

Dean had weighed the options, already knowing what choice he was going to make. He knew Robin would get hurt, but in the end he would always choose Sam. He would always choose his little brother. And he hadn't been lying when he'd told Sam earlier that he didn't know what he was talking about when Sam had said it couldn't have been easy, because it _had_ been easy. It had been the easiest decision he'd ever made. But at the same time it had been the most painful; tearing himself out of the life that had been given to him. Away from Sonny, away from Robin, away from his good grades at school and the stupid wrestling trophy which he left sitting on his bedside table. It had hurt so damn much.

So he told himself he didn't care, because if he admitted to that, he knew he'd drown.

He thought about Cas. About how patient the former angel had been with Dean, never pushing, never asking, never taking; just giving, waiting.

Cas deserved to know the truth. Regardless of how hard it would be for Dean to tell him or how painful it would be for the fallen angel to hear it, he needed to know.

And Dean needed to tell him; Dean needed to get this secret out before it ate away at him until there was nothing left.

_You did not deserve what that bastard did._

_When you look in the mirror, you want the guy looking back at you to be his own man._

_If I have to promise to talk about my feelings then you do too. It's only fair._

A motel sign lit up the darkness and Dean pulled the Impala into the lot, parking and killing the engine. Sam woke up and glanced at the time.

"Dude, I thought you were gonna drive a few more hours before we stopped?"

Dean didn't answer, just stood from the car and entered the building marked 'Reception'.

Sam looked back at Cas, who shrugged.

Dean came out of the office a few minutes later and threw a set of keys to Cas.

"Room 137. I'll be right there okay?"

Cas looked like he might protest for a second but sighed and nodded, hoisting his bag and moving off in the direction of their room.

Dean turned to Sam and held out the second set.

"Dean, what's going on?" Sam asked.

"Cas and I need to have a conversation." He said, jiggling the keys a bit in an attempt to get Sam to take them.

Sam raised his eyebrows.

"Really? You're going to do that now?"

Dean sighed and rubbed the back of his head before dropping his hand.

"I've got to man. I owe it to Cas, and if I don't do it now…I don't know if I'll be able to work up the courage to do it again."

Sam nodded in understanding and took the keys from Dean's hand before pulling his brother in for a quick hug, clapping him on the back.

"Good luck, Dean. I'm proud of you."

Dean rolled his eyes and shoved his brother away half-heartedly.

"Whatever, dude. I'll see you in the morning."

…

Castiel was sitting on the bed, fidgeting as he waited for Dean. He wasn't sure what was going on and, though he trusted the other hunter implicitly, he was still wary.

Dean entered, locking the door and turning to look at Cas, who was sitting still and watching him tentatively.

"What's going on, Dean?" he asked softly.

Dean sighed and moved to lean against the cheap kitchen table, crossing his arms and feet.

"I got something I need to tell you, Cas. I should have told you this sooner, but…It's not easy for me to talk about. I…" He cut himself off. He knew he was rambling, and Cas was looking utterly confused from his position on the bed.

"Dean, what are you talking about?"

Dean sighed and stood, moving to join Cas on the bed, sitting sideways so he could face the other man. Cas shifted so he could look at Dean and brought his hand out to rest on Dean's bent knee.

"What is it?"

"You…talked to Sam. About us."

Cas frowned.

"Was I not supposed to?" he asked, "I didn't mean to upset you, I just didn't-"

"Hey, hey, hey." Dean stopped him, covering the hand that was on his leg with his own. "It's all right, I'm not mad. Although, I think Sam would appreciate if you didn't come to him about the more…physical aspects of our relationship again. But, you shouldn't have had to do that. I should have…talked to you, like I promised, I just... I guess I'm not really very good at this, Cas. I don't…I don't like to talk about how I feel or what's going on with me. I'm just not comfortable with it. But I want to try. For you."

Cas raised his hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing, and Dean smiled at the unspoken show of support.

"I will listen to anything you have to say, Dean."

Dean nodded; taking a deep breath and steeling himself for the conversation he was about to have.

"Umm, so, when I was a teenager, my Dad caught me making out with this…guy. And he wasn't too happy about it."

"Your father was homophobic?" Cas asked softly and Dean looked up to find blue eyes staring at him as though he was the only thing in the universe. He sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, he uh, he wasn't too pleased about my 'choice'."

"But, sexuality isn't a choice." Cas said with a frown.

"Yeah, well, try telling him that." Dean muttered, shifting and dragging a hand down his tired face. "Anyway, he got really pissed. Started yelling and calling me names. Then he left to go drinking and when he got back…"

Dean trailed off, his breathing quickening as memories assaulted him and his voice died in his throat. He shut his eyes, squeezing as though that would banish them. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and his eyes snapped up. Castiel's concerned gaze was staring back at him.

"Dean?" he asked softly, worry colouring his tones.

Dean could feel his body shaking. His lips trembled and he pursed them tightly to try to get them to stop. Tears burned in his eyes. He took in a breath.

"Dad, he…when he got back he grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and dragged me into my bedroom. I thought he was gonna beat me. When he threw me down on the bed and started taking his belt off I thought he was going to hit me with it. I was prepared for that, wasn't like it was the first time, but then he took his pants off and he said….he said, 'If you want to whore around with the local fags then that's exactly what you'll get'." Dean paused, staring off at nothing, lost in the memory, "And then he raped me."

The motel room was silent following Dean's revelation. Dean looked up to see how Castiel had reacted and saw a look on the former angel's face that reminded Dean of the way Cas used to be when they'd first met. Back when the angel had been full of righteous power and angelic wrath. The Castiel that had seen battle and fought with gods and had lived millennia before he had plucked Dean from the pit and burned his mark into Dean's shoulder and soul. His mouth was set in a hard line, his hands had tightened into fists, and his eyes shone with rage and pain and love.

He took in a breath, shutting his eyes momentarily and unclenching his fists, letting the anger flow out of him and when he opened his eyes again, all Dean could see was raw pain and anguish. Cas reached forward a hand and, as gently as possible, wiped the tears that had fallen unnoticed from Dean's eyes. He leaned forward, closing his eyes as he did so, and rested his forehead against Dean's, brushing his fingers through the hunter's close-cropped hair.

"I'm so sorry, Dean." he said, his voice soft with sorrow.

Dean couldn't hold the tears back and they tricked down his cheeks and dripped from his nose as Castiel's other arm came around his back and the hand that was in his hair pushed gently until his face rested on Cas' shoulder. He brought up his hands to fist Castiel's shirt.

"He raped me Cas. He _raped_ me."

The words were broken as they spilt forth from his mouth, words that had been trapped inside him so long, kept secret and hidden deep beneath layer upon layer of pain and shame and hurt. But now that they were out, now that they had been spoken, he couldn't seem to stop saying them almost as though he couldn't believe them himself.

Castiel's arms tightened around Dean, his breath hitching as his heart broke for the man in his arms. He had never felt the desire to kill before. Sure he had done his share of smiting and he had killed many angels, during the war and his time as 'God', but never had he felt such rage rise up in him as he did now and in that moment he knew for a fact that, grace or no grace, if John Winchester were to appear now, here in this room, he would not hesitate to wrap his hands around the man's neck and squeeze. He was, after all, a creature of wrath; a soldier of heaven, born for battle to do God's bidding; to protect good and destroy evil.

He may have fallen, he may no longer be an angel, but he loved the man whom he held in his arms. He had pulled him from hell and rebuilt him. Dean may have done questionable things but they were always born out of a need and desire to protect those who could not protect themselves and he had not deserved half the things that he had been put through, let alone what he had just revealed his father had done to him.

But he was not an angel and John Winchester was long dead. All he could do now was offer what little comfort he could give to the weeping man in his arms. So he wrapped his arms tighter around Dean, pulling the both of them down so they lay on the cheap motel bed sheets. Dean moved in closer, seeking comfort and protection and Castiel looked down at him.

The last time the former angel had seen the hunter looking so lost and exposed and vulnerable had been when he had encountered his soul in hell.

When Castiel had finally reached Dean, and Dean had turned from the soul he had been torturing, the anger and pain and sadistic fury that had driven him to accept Alistair's offer of relief had melted at the sight of Castiel's heavenly presence and he had collapsed, distraught and broken and sobbing in the presence of something so pure in the depths of a place so twisted and dark. When Castiel had reached for him, Dean had fought him tooth and nail, animalistic rage taking over as he struggled against the goodness that he didn't feel he deserved until Castiel was forced to grab hold of the soul itself and flee, dragging Dean along behind him. He remembered the ecstasy of his grace connecting with the soul of Dean Winchester, ecstasy that had fuelled his cry.

_Dean Winchester is saved!_

It had been in that moment of connection that Castiel's unwavering loyalty to heaven had begun to crack. As Hester had said, the moment he had laid his hands on Dean he had been lost, his loyalties had been divided. That was the moment he had begun his long, slow fall from grace.

But as he held onto the weeping hunter, he couldn't help but feel that it had all been worth it, just to be able to lie here with Dean in his arms and comfort him through his grief.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Rainbow Fruit loop for Betaing
> 
> Takes place during 9x08.
> 
> Warning: Discussions of rape and mild sexual content
> 
> Enjoy!

He was dreaming.

He knew he was dreaming because in the dream he was an angel, and he was in heaven. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent that was so unlike anything he had come across on earth.

He sighed wistfully.

His time as a human was not unwelcome. He was very thankful for Dean and Sam, mostly Dean, and the comfortable domesticity that they had fallen into. But it was hard not to feel a little homesick.

He watched the clouds pass, the kite a splash of vivid red against the blue of the sky. He heard birds chirping and wind rustling through the grass.

He closed his eyes once more, and felt a hand caress his face, swiping a soft thumb across his cheeks as warm lips pressed themselves to his own. A shiver of pleasure washed over him and Castiel felt his mind shift from the tranquil depths of sleep to the waking world to find Dean running his fingers down the soft cotton of the t-shirt he had worn to bed. Dean was brushing against the warm skin at the waist of his pyjama bottoms, and heat lanced through Castiel's body at the touch. He felt himself respond, blood rushing southwards as his breathing began to pick up. Dean was sucking at the base of his neck, and Cas moaned as his hands roamed the hunter's firm body.

Idly, he considered stopping Dean, slowing down and taking a breath to check in and see how the other man was doing, but then Dean's hand moved up his chest, underneath the shirt he wore, his fingers brushed over a nipple—

All thoughts rushed out of Castiel's head as he moaned Dean's name.

They continued kissing, hands roaming, touching, feeling. Castiel allowed his hand to slip beneath the waistband of the sweats Dean wore, fingers brushing over coarse hair and warm flesh. Dean's breathing sped up and Cas began stroking, fascinated by the feel and by his own body's response.

It took a few seconds of Dean's laboured breathing and the other man squeezing his arm too tightly for him to come back to himself and realize that Dean was no longer enjoying the experience.

"Dean? Dean!" Cas said, pulling his hands up to cup Dean's face, which was buried in the pillows, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched as he fought against the panic welling inside him. "Dean?"

Dean shied away from the touch, breaths turning to gasps as his body shook. He whimpered out a litany of, "No, no, no, please, no."

"Dean, listen to me. It's okay." Castiel said, making sure to keep his voice soft and soothing as the books he'd read had said to do. "I'm going to touch you on your shoulder. I won't hurt you."

He rested his hand lightly on the hunter's shoulder. Dean jumped, but Cas kept it there, warm and still. Not moving, not threatening.

Cas continued speaking.

"It's all right, Dean. Just breathe with me, okay? Slowly. In and out, in and out."

He breathed as he spoke and took Dean's hand, gently bringing it up to his chest so he could feel Castiel's slow and steady breathing pattern. Occasional whimpers still escaped Dan's mouth but his breathing slowed eventually to match Castiel's, who continued to speak, directing his breath.

Dean's eyes opened, the normally vivid green dulled as he blinked sluggishly in the dim light, and Cas let himself relax. This wasn't the first time Dean had been subject to a panic attack in the last week, and Cas cursed himself for losing control.

"Sorry, Cas." Dean said softly, his voice small and shameful.

"No, no, Dean." Cas said, scooting down so he was lying facing the other man, reaching out to run his fingers along Dean's cheek, "It's my fault. I should have been paying more attention to you."

Dean shook his head and grabbed Castiel's hand, pressing a kiss to the palm.

"It's all right."

…

"I just want you to know that I really want this, I just-"

"Dean, stop." Cas reached out a hand and planted it on the hunter's firm chest, halting his movement. They turned to face each other in the dim hallway of the bunker, hesitant green meeting unwavering blue.

It had been a week since Dean had opened up to Cas in the motel room about what his father had done and, in the intervening days, Dean had become more and more physically demonstrative and more and more frustrated when the panic still continued to set in as it had that morning. Dean turned to face the other man, shoulders sagging with disappointment at his own perceived weakness.

"You need to be patient with this." Castiel said in his low, firm tones. "This isn't something that's just going to be fixed overnight."

Dean sighed impatiently and leaned back against the wall, tapping his head lightly against the concrete and screwing his eyes shut.

"I thought talking about it was supposed to fix it. That's what all the sappy movies and Sam always say."

Cas moved in closer, pressing his body against Dean's and intertwining their fingers.

"The talking has helped, Dean, I know you know that. But it's a slow process and it takes time. You can't just skip to the end. You have to let yourself heal." As he spoke, he moved in closer and closer until he was whispering against Dean's lips. "It will be okay, I'm not going anywhere."

Dean smiled and closed what little gap there was left between them, pressing his lips to Cas' and kissing him slowly, his arms encircling his torso and his hands running over the strong muscles of the former angel's back, fisting the plaid shirt that Cas had borrowed from Dean because he 'liked the way it smelled'.

Cas opened his mouth, remembering well what the pizza man had taught him, and moaned at the explosion of pleasure that accompanied Dean's tongue as it delved into his mouth and intertwined with his own.

A throat clearing separated them and they glanced towards the sound, spying Crowley standing at the end of the corridor, a suggestive eyebrow raised.

"Oh by all means don't stop on my account." The former demon said with a smirk, moving towards them and then past and into the kitchen.

Cas and Dean breathed heavily against each other before following the man.

…

As Dean entered the kitchen, he caught sight of his brother conked out at the table, head resting on one outstretched arm, Crowley sitting at the other end. Dean held a finger to his lips to shush them and then grabbed a bowl and a cup of coffee, moving silently toward the table before plunking the bowl down loudly beside Sam's head. Sam jumped in his seat and Dean snickered as he sat down.

"Hey." he greeted.

"Hey." Sam replied and he glanced at his audience, watching as Crowley turned back to his corn flakes and Cas sat down on the other side of Dean with his own bowl and coffee.

"You okay?" Dean asked, his mothering instincts towards Sam coming out despite the way he had chosen to wake his brother.

"Yeah." Sam assured, rubbing his face as Dean reached for the cereal box and poured a bowl for Cas and himself, "Just resting my eyes for a second."

He yawned as Cas poured milk into his and Dean's bowls.

"Seriously, you want a pillow?" Dean asked as he mixed his cornflakes up and took a bite.

"No, I'm fine." Sam answered.

"You sick?" Dean asked, worried that Sam's miraculous recovery had somehow taken a turn for the worst.

"I'm not sick." Sam assured, "I just feel like my battery can't recharge."

"Your body has expended a great deal of energy healing you." Cas interjected. "How have you been sleeping?"

Sam shrugged.

"Fine."

Dean, Cas, and Crowley all looked doubtfully at him and he sighed.

"I've just…I've been sleeping so much, I'm sick of it. I just want to be better already."

Castiel rolled his eyes and went back to his cereal, muttering about 'stubborn Winchesters'.

Dean's phone ringing interrupted the conversation.

"Sheriff Mills." He greeted. Crowley glanced up from his meal, an intense look in his eyes. "Hold on, Sam's here too."

"Jody." Sam said once Dean had hit the speaker button and set the phone down on the table in between them.

"Hey Sam," the Sheriff answered, "Uh, I got a bit of an oddball to pitch your direction."

Jody explained the situation and Dean and Sam shared a nod.

"Yeah, sounds like our kind of thing." Dean said, "Alright, we'll head out soon."

"Alright, see you then, boys."

"May I speak with her?"

Dean had picked up the phone to end the call when Crowley spoke from the other end of the table.

"Who was that?" Jody asked over the phone.

"Hang on." Dean said before turning off the speaker and holding the phone to his chest. "Why the hell do you want to talk to her?"

Crowley looked soberly at Dean.

"I know who that was and I know what I did to her. I need to make amends."

Dean stared stonily back and Sam glared.

"Please." The former demon begged.

Sam and Dean shared a glance before Dean put the phone back to his ear.

"Hey Jody, you remember Crowley?"

"The demon who tried to kill me with magic?" Jody asked, remembering well the blind date gone very, very wrong.

"Yeah, well he's here."

"What?" She demanded, loud enough for the whole table to hear. "Why is he with you? I thought you said he was like the King of Hell or something?"

"Yeah, well Sam cured him so now he's human, and he's living with us at the bunker."

There was a pause.

"That sounds cosy." The sheriff commented sarcastically.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Anyway, he says he wants to talk to you. You can feel free to tell him to piss off."

There was more silence down the line before Jody spoke again.

"Put him on." she said, her tone hard.

"Are you sure?"

"Just put him on, Dean."

Dean handed over the phone, sending a glare Crowley's way for good measure.

"Sheriff Mills." Crowley greeted in his gruff accent.

"What do you want?" She asked, her resolve shining through in her voice.

"I want to apologize." he said in a soft voice. "I know I can never make up for what I did, what I've done. And I don't expect you to forgive me. I just need you to know that I truly regret everything."

Crowley waited with bated breath for the sheriff to answer.

"All right." came the response, cold and unemotional. "You can give me back to Dean now."

Crowley sighed but passed the phone back before standing and taking his dishes to the sink. It wasn't much, but it was a start. And in the end that was really all he could hope for.

…

Dean pulled his baby into the parking lot of 'Casey's Great Plains Diner', parking her next to where the Sheriff was standing. He then got out to greet their old friend.

"Sheriff." Dean greeted as Sam and Cas got out, Sam moving in to give her a hug.

She stepped back and eyed the blue-eyed man not dressed as a fed. He was standing far closer to Dean than she'd ever have thought Dean would be comfortable with. Not that she knew the boys that well, but Dean did have a certain…'image' that he put forward and this didn't really compute with that.

"Jody," Dean smiled, pulling the man forward, "This is Cas. He's just here for uh, moral support."

She glanced from Dean's easy smile to Cas' serious expression and then to their clasped hands.

"Nice to meet you." she said, holding out her hand to shake Cas'.

"Likewise." he answered. "I've heard many great things about you."

"So?" Sam asked once the pleasantries were out of the way.

Jody brought them up to speed on what had happened as well as the connection they all shared.

"They were all members of Good Faith Church here. My church group back in Sioux Falls was in a tizzy over it."

"Hmm." Dean said with a considering glance.

"What?"

Dean shook his head.

"Didn't peg you for churchy." He felt eyes on him and looked over to see Castiel glaring. "What?"

Jody cocked her head.

"Yeah, you know, choking on a ladies room floor 'cause of witchcraft? Kind of makes a higher power seem relevant."

Sam nodded and shared a glance with Castiel.

"Hey, sorry about this morning by the way." Dean said.

"Yeah." Jody agreed, "It was a little strange. I can't imagine what it's been like to live with the guy." Dean shrugged. "But in a way, it was nice."

"Forgiveness can be very healing." Cas said in a formal tone, sounding more like his old self than he had since the fall.

Jody took in his words and smiled.

"Jody," Dean asked, "are you sure you're, uh, ready to jump back into the fray?"

Jody fixed him with her no-nonsense Sheriff stare.

"This wackadoo stuff keeps coming. More I know, better armed I'll be."

Dean nodded.

"Okay," Sam said, "so we have missing church folk and super-strength." he looked over at Dean and Cas, "Maybe angels harvesting vessels? Could be that Buddy Boyle guy?"

"Wh– angels." Jody interrupted, "You're joking."

"Don't get your pants on fire." Dean answered, "They suck."

This time Cas hit him. Hard.

"Ow." Dean said, clutching his upper arm. Despite not having his angelic powers, the former angel could still cause pain when he wanted to. "Not you, obviously."

Jody stared between the hunter and the still-glaring Cas.

"Wait, what?"

Dean rolled his eyes and gestured to Cas with his head.

"He used to be an angel."

"My name is Castiel. My grace was stolen by Metatron and used to cast all of the angels out of heaven."

"Remember that meteor shower a few months back?" Sam asked.

Jody stared between the three of them, mouth open and eyes blinking before she shook her head, closed her eyes and sighed, throwing her hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"Okay, you got a former demon and a former angel living with you guys and from the looks of it you," she pointed at Dean, "are in love with one of them." She frowned, "There's a sitcom in there somewhere…"

"Anyway." Sam said in an attempt to steer the conversation back to the topic at hand. "You said there was a witness?"

…

The witness, 'Slim', yielded no definite answers, and so they decided to head over to the Good Faith Church to do some digging.

"Come on, Cas." Dean pleaded as he and Sam changed out of their suits and into their civvies. "It's just undercover work, and it's a church; right up your alley!"

"I don't know, Dean." Cas said from his position on the bed.

Dean pulled his plaid shirt on over his navy blue t-shirt and sat down facing the ex-angel on the bed.

"What is it?" he asked softy, taking one of Cas' hands in both of his.

Cas looked at their hands and sighed, lifting his eyes to meet Dean's and then looking away.

"It's not like there's gonna be any monsters there." Dean assured.

Cas looked back at Dean.

"But what if there are? We still don't know what we're dealing with."

Dean sighed.

"Then I'll protect you." he said with conviction. "I'm not gonna let anything hurt you. Besides, you helped us gank that ghost in New York last week."

"I only came because you wouldn't stop bugging me until I agreed."

"Yeah, and now I know that that tactic works."

Cas sighed, and moved to get up off the bed.

"Fine." he said in a resigned voice, "I swear you're worse than Gabriel sometimes."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

…

They were shown around the church by a buttoned up red-head in a purple cardigan and peter-pan collar named, quite aptly, Bonny. Eventually they ended up in the office where Sam managed to broach the subject of the missing people and they discovered that all four of them had been part of the same chastity group.

"Count us in!" Sam said eagerly when they were informed that the meeting was 'members only'.

Dean shot Sam a look and Cas frowned in the younger Winchester's direction as Bonny practically vibrated with excitement at the prospect of new recruits and left to get the paperwork.

"All righty." She said, sitting back down and handing out three clipboards, "Just sign there and your purification can begin."

"Purity pledge?" Sam read as he looked down at the form.

Bonny nodded.

"It's a commitment to your virginity."

Cas signed his name on the line and then, deciding it might look a little suspicious to only have one name, added _Winchester_ to the end of it. He smiled for a moment at the unexpected feeling of warmth that coursed though him at seeing those two names written out together before he replaced the pen and handed the clipboard back to the woman. She beamed at him, and he glanced over to find Sam and Dean looking at him.

"What?"

Bonny looked expectantly at the two Winchesters who had yet to sign anything.

"I don't think we can really 'un-ring' that bell." Dean said by way of explanation. "You know what I mean."

Bonny looked taken aback.

"Oh, I see." she said disapprovingly, "Well, if you just ask God's forgiveness for your sins and make a new vow of chastity, well, then you'll be born again as a virgin in his eyes."

"So you just hit the virginity 'do over' button and all's good with the man upstairs?" Out of the corner of his eye Dean could see Castiel rolling his eyes at Dean's ungraceful choice of phrase.

Bonny looked even more offended.

"It's not a button." she said quietly, "And this isn't just a piece of paper. This is your clean slate, your chance to be a virgin again until marriage."

Bonny's words, despite being bat-shit crazy, struck a chord in Dean. Clean slate, the chance to do it all over again, to reclaim his virginity and wipe away everything else; the panic attacks, the slew of faceless, nameless, meaningless hook-ups, and, most importantly of all, his father.

"You had me at clean slate." he said, brandishing his pen, "Let's do this."

As he scrawled his signature on the line beneath the pledge, he couldn't help but feel a little piece of the knot that was the secret of his father's violation, breaking off and leaving him feeling marginally lighter and perhaps one step closer to letting it all go.

…

Dean shifted in his folded chair as the hot blond 'Suzie' started the meeting with a prayer for the missing members. Cas immediately closed his eyes and bowed his head along with the rest of the group and, a second later, so did Sam. Dean stared intently at Suzie. There was something…familiar about her. He cocked his head, wracking his brain when Sam's gaze out of the corner of his eyes distracted him and he looked over. His brother glared and looked pointedly at Cas who sat on his other side and Dean nodded, closing his eyes and bowing his head. It's not as though he'd been checking her out, there was just…something.

"Amen." Suzie said, "Now, would anyone like to share?"

Immediately, an uptight redhead spoke up.

"I have a new piece of verse that I wrote," she said, standing. "It's called 'Sex is a racket, and God's ball is in your court'."

Dean rolled his eyes and Castiel frowned and cocked his head in bewilderment at the ideas humans concocted. Did they truly believe that his father would have given them the pleasure of fornication if he expected them not experience let alone enjoy it? It really was quite irrational.

"And we would love to hear that, Tammy, later." Suzie interrupted, turning to the three men, "Why don't we hear from our new friends? Sam, what brought you here to reclaim your virginity?"

Sam shifted.

"Well, I guess because every woman I've...ever... had relations with, uh...it...hasn't ended well."

Dean laughed at the understatement.

"He ain't lying."

Suzy frowned at Dean before looking back at Sam.

"Thank you for being here, Sam. Stay strong. Stay pure."

There was a chorus of 'Stay strong, stay pure' that did not fail to creep the hell out of Dean.

"Castiel." Suzy said, looking toward the fallen angel, "I understand that you are still a virgin."

Cas nodded.

"Yes." he answered simply.

There was a round of applause and a few suggestive looks thrown his way that made Dean want to growl and show the girls his claim on the blue-eyed man, but he restrained himself.

"And would you like to share your secret of staying pure?"

"I suppose I have just been waiting for the right person." he said with a small smile.

"And has all that waiting been a struggle?"

"Not at all." he said with conviction. His gaze moved to Dean and the expression in those endless blue eyes was so open and loving that Dean felt his heart clench, knowing that what Cas was saying was about him and one hundred percent true. "When it comes to the right person, it's the easiest thing in the world."

There was a chorus of 'awwws' from the women.

"And you, Dean?" Suzy said, "What set you on the path away from sin?"

Dean shrugged and cleared his throat. He could see Sam looking worriedly at him from the corner of his eye.

"Uh, hard to say, exactly." Dean hedged, "Yeah. Sex has always felt, I don't know, good, you know? I mean, really, really good." Sam glared and Dean remembered who he was talking to, "Uh...But, uh... Sometimes, it just makes you feel bad, you know? You're drunk. You shack up. Then, it's the whole morning thing. You know, 'Hey, that was fun'. And then, 'adios,' you know? Always the 'adios'. But, you know, when you get down to it, what's the big deal, right? I mean, sure, there's the touching and the feeling all of each other, my hands everywhere, tracing every inch of her body, the two of us moving together, pressing and pulling... Grinding. Then you hit that sweet spot, and everything just builds and builds and builds until it all just..." Dean trailed off.

He thought about Castiel who sat beside him and how patient he'd been with Dean in the past few weeks since Dean had poured his heart out to him in the crappy motel room. They had made some headway in their physical relationship, moving forward slowly and tentatively, Cas always quick to ask Dean how he was feeling and if it was too much. Truth be told, at times it was annoying as hell and Dean may or may not have snapped at Cas once or twice for being overbearing and overly cautious, but sitting here in this group, surrounded by strangers and the two people he loved and trusted most in the world, he was thankful for the support he had no matter how saccharine that sounded.

"The truth is…" he started and hesitated as his heart began to pound and his palms began to sweat and was he actually going to do this? He glanced over at Cas who was starting at him with open adoration and love expressed in his serene expression and Dean knew that no matter what he did, whether he talked or not, Cas and Sam would be there for him. He shifted in the cheap plastic chair and cleared his throat. "The truth is, when I was a teenager, I was…raped."

A collective gasp sounded from the group of women and whispers broke out. Dean could feel his hands shake and his face heat from the confession. He glanced out of the corner of his eyes and saw Sam staring at him in open astonishment and, looking to his other side, Cas with concern colouring his features.

"After that," he continued once Suzy had shushed everyone and gestured for Dean to go on. "I guess sex became a way to prove myself. To prove that…he hadn't broken me; that he didn't control me. But along the way it got…all twisted and it became cold, and…empty. I mean sure it feels great, that moment you know? But afterwards, you just end up feeling lonelier than you did before; like there's this void inside you that can't be filled. I guess, coming here and signing the pledge is a chance for me to start over. So that I can finally let go of what happened and move on and finally be happy."

He blinked back tears as he finished and looked over at Castiel who was gazing at him with eyes bright from unshed tears, and Dean shot him a small, wobbly smile.

"Sorry." he said, standing and moving out of the room as the tears he could no longer hold at bay burst forth. Maybe he was at a point where he could talk about his issues with people, but he was definitely still not comfortable crying in public.

He turned a few corners and found himself in the church kitchen, a shaking hand held to his mouth as tears burned in his eyes. He spun around at the sound of the door opening behind him and came face to face with Castiel, whose brow was furrowed with concern. He moved forward slowly, a comforting hand coming out to rest on Dean's upper arm. He didn't say anything, just rubbed his thumb lightly over the fabric of Dean's shirt, and Dean squeezed his eyes shut and crowded into Cas' space, seeking comfort, which the former angel was more than willing to give. Dean cried silent tears into Cas' shirt, the only sound the occasional sniffle, and Cas rubbed Dean's back as they rode out the wave of melancholy together.

…

Sam found Dean and Cas in the kitchen, still locked in their embrace, tear tracks drying on Dean's cheeks. He wiped them away at the sight of his brother, cheeks burning in embarrassment as he pulled away from Castiel.

"Hey." he said casually, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"Hey." Sam answered back, concern for his brother shining through his own off-hand tones. "The meeting finished pretty quick after you left. Do you want to do a little digging? Or do you want to go back to the motel?"

Dean ran his hands through his short hair and over his face. He thought about going back out there, facing the strangers to whom he had just spilled one of his deepest, darkest secrets.

He shook his head.

"I– I don't think I can."

"It's okay." Sam reassured softly, "Cas can take you back, I got this one."

Dean looked like he wanted to protest, to prove that he could still do the job but the idea of going out there… he shuddered.

"Okay." he agreed, and moved towards the door.

"Hey Dean?" Sam's words stopped him and he glanced back at his younger brother. "I'm really proud of you. That took a lot of guts and…I just— I'm proud of you."

The words were inelegant, but Dean smiled regardless, and nodded.

"Thanks, Sammy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all I have written so far so updates will slow to about once a week.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by Rainbow Fruit Loop
> 
> Warning for references to sexual abuse.
> 
> Enjoy!

Jody was on the computer and Castiel was looking over the witness statement made by Barb Blanton's mother when Sam returned from questioning Tammy.

"Hey." He greeted, and both Jody and Cas held their fingers to their mouths, gesturing to the bed in the far corner where Dean was sprawled out, still fully clothed and fast asleep.

Sam sent a concerned glance towards Cas. "He all right?" he whispered.

Cas nodded.

"He was a little subdued, but I believe he will be okay. Did you find anything out?"

"Yeah." Sam said, shucking his coat and moving over to the table. "Apparently, two of our vics, Honor and Pastor Fred, did the dirty."

"Well, they're not the only ones." Jody replied.

In hushed tones, Jody informed Sam of Barb and her fiancée's activities prior to their capture.

A moan from the bed interrupted their quiet discussion and all three glanced over just as Dean began whimpering and thrashing around in his sleep, clearly in the throes of some nightmare.

Cas shot out of his chair and over to the distressed man, settling beside him.

"Dean, wake up, it's all right." he said softly as he reached out his hand to rest on Dean's shoulder.

Dean flinched away from the contact, his eyes snapping open and his breathing laboured as he scuffled to the edge of the bed.

"Dean?" Cas said slowly, his hands held up in a pacifying gesture.

It seemed to take Dean a few moments to get his bearings and slow his breathing, but eventually he rubbed a hand over his tired eyes.

"Cas?" he said, his voice still thick from sleep.

Castiel moved forward slowly, as though approaching an injured animal.

"It's okay, Dean." he said, his voice calm and soothing. "You were just having a nightmare, that's all."

He laid his hand slowly and gently on Dean's shoulder. Dean flinched at the touch, but soon relaxed into the comforting gesture and lowered his head to rest on Cas' shoulder, allowing his breathing to even out and his heart to stop pounding in his chest. Cas wrapped one arm around his back and threaded the fingers of the other through his hair.

Sam and Jody averted their eyes from the intimate moment and Jody sent a concerned and questioning look Sam's way. He sighed and shook his head. It was for Dean to tell if he wanted to.

Jody stood and moved to the two boys on the bed, her motherly instincts still active despite having no child to direct them to.

"Dean?" she asked softly, placing a hand on his back.

Dean sucked in a breath and blew it out, rising his head and turning; neutral mask in place.

"Yeah?" he answered in an as off-hand a manner as he could manage.

Jody sent him a glare that clearly said for him to cut it out before she smacked him.

"What's wrong?"

Dean sighed and looked at Cas, who looked back impassively, and Sam, who had settled on the bed opposite and had his 'concerned brother' expression on.

"Well, I guess it doesn't much matter now if one more person knows." he said softly. He turned to Jody. "I may or may not have blabbed to the entire purity group about how my dad…sexually abused me when I was a teenager."

Despite his attempts at a casual, uncaring tone, Dean's voice cracked and a painful lump threatened to close up his throat.

Jody sat in shocked silence for a few moments, trying to digest what she'd just heard.

"Jesus, Dean." she said finally, her hand idly rubbing comforting circles on his back.

Dean shrugged.

"Yeah, he wasn't too happy when he came home to find me making out with another guy, so…" he trailed off, playing with a loose thread in the bedspread.

"That's no excuse." she said in her no-nonsense, sheriff/mom voice, and without another word, she pulled him into a hug.

Dean closed his eyes at the warmth that enveloped him. With Sam, their hugs tended to be quick, a short squeeze and a manly clap on the back. With Cas, there was always so much more going on, burning and building beneath the surface.

This was more like the way Ellen used to hug him, and the way his mom had; wrapping him in maternal warmth that made him feel safe and secure and loved, no matter how old he might be. He did not cry, just wrapped his arms around her and buried his head in her shoulder. He could almost imagine the smell of apple pie and freshly baked bread and the floral perfume that his mother used to wear. The one that came from the fancy bottle that had sat on the bathroom counter.

He let himself sink into the sheriff's embrace and allowed himself to believe, just for a moment, that it was his own mother holding him tight.

"So," he said eventually, pulling back and trying to divert the attention away from himself. "What have we learned?"

Sam brought him up to speed while Dean splashed water on his face to wipe away the last remnants of tears, and to wake himself up.

"You know," Jody said once Sam had finished informing Dean, "I'm thinking whatever this thing is, it's not going after virgins, even born-again virgins."

Sam nodded in agreement.

"It's taking virgins who break their chastity vow." He looked over at Cas and Dean. "So dragons are off the list."

The two men nodded while Jody gaped.

"I'm sor—dragons?" She asked, her eyes wide. "Those are a thing?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Too many things are things."

He then sighed and sank into Castiel's vacated chair, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Hey, you okay?" Dean asked.

Sam looked over at his brother; who was still concerned with his safety, despite everything he was going through. He smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine. We need to figure out what's taking these people."

"Vesta." Cas said softly, a pensive look in his blue eyes.

"What?"

"Vesta. Or Hestia if you prefer. Grecko-Roman goddess of the hearth and purity. Her followers were required to stay celibate for thirty years and if they broke their vow…"

"What?"

Cas looked up at the three other occupants of the room.

"They were buried alive."

"And you think that's what's happening here?" Sam asked.

"Her magic resembled blue fire which she used to control her followers and kill those who opposed her."

"Do you know how to kill her?" Dean asked.

"Oak, stained in the blood of a virgin."

"Okay." Jody said, "Where are we gonna get a virgin?"

"I'm a virgin!" Sam announced.

Dean, Cas and Jody stared at him.

"I think we need the real McCoy here, Sam." Jody commented.

Sam's face fell.

"I can provide the blood." Cas said calmly.

Jody stared.

"Really?" she asked.

"Angel, remember?" Dean reminded her. "Okay, so all we need is an oak branch." He stood and pulled on his jacket, "Is there some way of summoning her?" he asked Cas.

Castiel shook his head.

"I'm unsure."

"Well, see what you can find. I'll be back soon."

"Wait." Cas said, standing and grabbing Dean's coat. "I will come with you."

"Cas, I don't need–"

"Dean, do you know what an oak tree looks like?"

Dean opened his mouth and then shut it.

"No."

"Then I will come." He turned to Sam and Jody. "I know you may not like it, but I would suggest calling Crowley. He is much more familiar with the pagans than I."

…

"Huh." Dean said, staring up at the monstrous tree that towered above him. "So that's an oak tree."

"Yes." Castiel confirmed, turning to Dean. "Pick me up."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"The branches are too tall for me to reach." Cas said. "Lift me up."

Dean looked up and then back at the ex-angel, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"You just want to climb the tree, don't you?"

Cas rolled his eyes.

"Dean, we need a strong branch of Oak to defeat the Roman Goddess who is capturing and burying people alive."

"And you really want to climb the tree."

Cas glared at him before deflating.

"Yes." he said in a small, embarrassed voice.

Dean chuckled, and stroked him lovingly on the cheek.

"You're adorable."

Cas' lips turned up in a small smile.

"Okay." Dean said, bending his knees and interlocking his fingers, holding them out, "Get on."

Cas put his hands on Dean's shoulders and one of his feet in Dean's joined hands, lifting himself up. Grabbing hold of the tree trunk for stability, he lifted the other foot to Dean's shoulder.

"Hmmm, I like the view from here." Dean leered as Cas climbed up him like a cat.

Cas rolled his eyes and grabbed hold of the lowest branch, pulling himself up until he sat astride it.

"This was much quicker and easier when I had wings." he commented as he stood on the branch and began climbing up the tree, using the flashlight Dean had pulled from the trunk of the Impala to find a suitable branch for their purpose.

"Oh admit it, you love it." Dean shot back. He glanced around and caught sight of a drugstore across the street, "Hey, I'm just gonna go grab something! I'll be right back!"

"Dean?" Cas shouted back as Dean headed away, "Dean!", but Dean was already halfway across the road. Cas frowned, wondering what the hunter was up to.

…

Sam shut his laptop with a frustrated sigh.

"Nothing!"

Jody looked up from her computer.

"You know there is still one resource."

Sam sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Logically he knew that Crowley was their best bet on finding out how to beat Vesta and, given the events of the past two weeks, he knew the former demon was unlikely to lie to them, but still.

"…All right." he said with a resigned sigh, picking up his phone and dialling.

…

Crowley was bored. Kevin still refused to occupy the same room as him, and had sequestered himself in his room. Linda was less hostile in her dislike of him, but she still avoided his company which, considering he had first possessed her and then imprisoned and tortured her, made total sense. And with Moose and Squirrel and Squirrel's pet angel gone, Crowley had nothing to do except peruse the titles on the shelves, looking for something new, something exciting…something that would block out the thoughts that crept inside in the oppressive silence of the sparsely occupied bunker.

His eye caught sight of the white bandage that peeked out from the sleeve of the shirt he wore, bright against the black cloth. He pulled the sleeve down, banishing the reminder of his moment of weakness. He had been sincere when he'd promised the giant Winchester that he wouldn't try again. Quite apart from the fact that he didn't want to go through the pain of splitting his skin open again, he had given it some concerted thought and decided that, while he knew he was hell bound, he may as well stick around for as long as he could and see if he couldn't maybe do some good with the time left to him. He was under no illusions that he could change his fate, but perhaps it would ease the knot of guilt that was eating away inside him. Maybe he could do it for Gavin, who had died believing his father was a no-good, abusive ass.

His phone interrupted his thoughts and Crowley glanced at it, surprised to see that it was Sam Winchester calling.

"Moose." He answered. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We…need your help." came the terse response.

Crowley rolled his eyes and plunked himself down in his chair.

"Well, try not to sound too ecstatic."

An aggravated sigh sounded down the line.

"What can I help you with?" Crowley asked, taking pity on the overgrown Winchester.

"What do you know about the Roman Goddess Vesta?"

Crowley scoffed.

"You're not dealing with that stuck up bitch, are you? _God_ , she was boring at parties."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Do you know how to summon her and/or trap her?"

…

Dean and Cas returned to the news that they now knew how to trap Vesta, but were unable to summon her since they had neither the requisite ingredients nor any way of obtaining them.

"Well," Dean said contemplatively, "We do have one sure-fire way of getting her here."

Sam frowned.

"She's taking people who break their vow, right?"

Sam's frown deepened.

"You want me to go out and get lucky?" he asked.

"No! Well, actually yeah, you could do with a good lay, but in this situation, no." Dean turned to Cas and sent him a significant glance

Sam glanced between Dean and Cas, realization dawning on his face.

"Ohhhhh." he said softly, turning away when the moment started to get awkward. Cas turned to Dean.

"Dean what are you—?" Cas started to say in a voice that warned Dean to step lightly.

"Listen, Cas." Dean said, holding his hands up, "We need to get Vesta here and this is the easiest way of doing it."

Sam and Jody exchanged looks as Cas' expression darkened.

"We're just gonna, um…" Jody trailed off as she grabbed her coat and purse and gestured to the door, moving swiftly to the exit followed by Sam, who shut the door quickly behind them.

"The easiest way of doing it?" Cas asked quietly, his tone vitriolic.

Dean shrugged. "Well I just…" he trailed off lamely as Cas turned, fists clenching as he fought to control his temper.

"Is that all this is to you Dean? Something that can be entered into casually? That can be spoken about in such off hand terms?"

Dean ducked his head in shame. Why did he have to say that? Why did he always go and mess it up? It had been going so well; why did he always end up saying the wrong thing?

"No, Cas, I—"

But Cas wasn't finished.

"Because it isn't for me, Dean. If we are to do this, I want it to be intimate, loving, caring. A connection of souls as much as a connection of bodies. A celebration of true, human intimacy and not something to be entered into lightly. I thought you wanted that. I thought that was what we were working on, but was that even what you meant? Or did you just want some casual fuck that you can just bang and leave? No feelings, no love, just adios! Is that what you wanted?"

Castiel's voice rose to a crescendo as he became more and more incensed. He even swore. Cas never swore.

"Cas, no, I—"

"How could you speak about this, us in such a casual manner? Especially after everything you have been through? You can barely stand to let me touch you without breaking down and now it's all 'well, if it solves the case then I guess we'd better get on with it'! Well, you know what?! I don't just 'want to get on with it'!"

"Well then what do you want?!" Dean retorted, not entirely sure why he was shouting, only knowing that he was confused and angry with himself, and he hated that Cas was shouting at him.

"I want you!" Cas yelled back.

"But you don't want to have sex with me?"

"I don't want that to be all our relationship is based on!"

"BUT WHAT IF THAT'S ALL THAT I'M GOOD FOR?!"

Silence fell as the two men stood panting from their screaming match, Castiel's anger dying as horror took over at Dean's words.

Dean seemed to deflate, dropping down onto the bed, his head in his hands. Castiel sat down slowly beside him and reached out to rest a comforting hand on Dean's tense shoulder. Dean threw it off with an angry gesture.

"Dean." Cas said softly. He could see Dean's shoulders shaking and when the man drew his hands down his face and sat back with a deep inhale of breath, his red rimed eyes gave him away. "Dean."

"What?" The words were laced with venom as he spat them out. He sighed, pain replacing the anger in his face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry Cas."

This time Dean let Castiel place a hand on his shoulder as an unspoken show of support.

"Dean, do you really believe what you just said?"

Dean chewed idly on his lower lip.

"My dad called me a whore that night." Dean spoke the words softly, barely a whisper, as though he was afraid of them. "What if he was right?"

Fury burned within the former angel.

"Nothing your father did that night was right."

Dean considered the words.

"Then why'd he do it?" he asked in a small, soft voice, turning to look at the man, eyes sad and scared and oh-so young.

Castiel wished he had a good answer for the hunter who looked so hurt and betrayed.

"I don't know." he said in a gruff voice.

"I'm scared, Cas." Dean whispered

"What are you scared of?"

Dean fidgeted.

"I'm scared of you leaving." he admitted finally.

"Dean, I told you I would never leave." Cas assured him.

Dean looked up with fearful green eyes.

"But if I can't…If we never…what if you get tired of waiting? I mean, what would you have to stay for?"

A pained look crossed Castiel's face as Dean voiced the questions.

"You." he said, hoping Dean would understand, but instead he continued to frown.

"But why? I mean, if I can't—"

"Dean." Cas said, interrupting him. "If we never had sex, if you were never able to do that, I would still stay."

"But why?" It came out almost as a whisper and it broke Cas' heart to hear Dean so confused and insecure.

"Because I love you, Dean."

Dean stared incredulously.

Castiel cocked his head.

"After all this time, after everything we have been though, are you truly still shocked by the idea that I, that anyone, might love you?"

Dean's head hung in shame, unable to deny the truth in Castiel's words. Cas reached out and, with one hand, gently lifted the other man's chin.

"I guess I will just have to spend the rest of my life convincing you otherwise." he said softly before moving in for a kiss.

…

"You know, for being born again today, you sure look like crap."

Jody and Sam were seated on the hood of the Impala, waiting for Dean and Cas to finish their lover's spat.

Sam smiled and yawned, rubbing his tired eyes. A thought occurred to him and he frowned.

"Wait a second. Did you…get—?" he trailed off and Jody raised her eyebrows in shock.

"Born again?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah."

She chuckled.

"Oh Sam. I don't make promises I can't keep." Jody shrugged, "It's just, I enjoy church. I mean, after…after Bobby, Crowley… I needed something that made sense to me. You know, comfort I guess."

Sam nodded in understanding.

"Yeah, I guess we're all looking for that."

"Except those that got it."

Sam frowned.

"Come on. You and Dean? That's something special, don't you think?"

Sam considered the words.

"If by special you mean 'dangerously co-dependent', then sure."

Jody shook her head.

"You don't understand. The level of trust you guys have in each other? That's rare. I mean, so it's not the healthiest relationship, so what? At least it's based on love, not hate. And at least it means you'll never be lonely."

Sam looked pensive.

"I've never thought about it that way."

"So, what the hell happened between Dean and your father?" she asked changing the subject.

Sam sighed and seemed to deflate a little, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head.

"I only found out about it a couple of years ago. Cas was, well, dead and Dean was pretty upset, and I guess he just couldn't hold it in anymore."

"So your dad never did anything to you?"

Sam shook his head.

"No. I mean, I never got along with the guy. We butted heads a lot when I was growing up and I pretty much hated him by the time I went off to college. But then he gave his life to save Dean and I…I mourned him as a hero. And Dean always sang his praises. Dean followed him blindly. Dean did everything he asked without question. And it always pissed me off so much. And then to find out he did that to him and more? Dean said Dad beat him too and he still obeyed every order." Sam shook his head. "And I know why Dean did it too, and that…that's what makes it so much worse."

"Why?" she asked. "What was the reason?"

Sam looked at her, his eyes swimming in unshed tears.

"Me." he said softly, "Because he didn't, _couldn't_ let anything happen to me. Couldn't let anything hurt me. So he just took it. Everything. He just accepted it. Hid it. Didn't tell anyone. Even when he was given the chance to get away he didn't take it. 'Cause I needed to be protected."

Jody sighed.

"Sam, you know none of that was your fault."

"I should have known." he said, his voice breaking as he voiced the thoughts that had haunted him since he discovered what had happened to his brother, "I should have come home sooner, or seen something, some sign that things weren't all right. I should have thanked Dean more for everything he did instead of blaming him for the things he didn't. I should have gotten Dean to come with me when I ran away instead of going on my own. I should have called him when I went off to Stanford instead of blaming him for siding with dad. I should have _seen_."

Tears were trickling down his face now and Jody slung an arm around his broad shoulders, pulling him in.

"No, you shouldn't." she said softly. "You shouldn't have had to do any of that. Just like Dean shouldn't have had to hide it or gone through it at all. All of this is on your father. None of it is on either of you."

"I just wish I could have done something."

Jody sighed.

"Everyone wishes they could have done more." she said wistfully. "All that means is that your heart's in the right place."

Sam looked at her and smiled slightly through his tears.

"Thanks."

…

Dean and Cas broke away, breathing heavily and leaning against each other, foreheads pressed together as they caught their breath.

"You know, we still need a way to get to Vesta and those people." Dean said, sitting back. He shrugged. "I mean, I guess we could always send Sam out to pick up a chick, but—"

"There is an easier way, you know." Cas said.

Dean frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Vesta requires people to pledge themselves to her." he said meaningfully. "To pledge their chastity."

He gave Dean a significant look.

Dean's eyes went wide.

"You think…?"

He shrugged.

"It makes the most sense under the circumstances. What do we have to lose?"

Dean grinned and swooped in, pressing his lips to Cas' and kissing him soundly.

"You are a genius." he said, cupping the former angel's cheeks before standing and grabbing the oak branch. "Here, rub some of your virginal blood on that." he said, moving towards the door. "Let's go catch us a goddess."

…

Bonny did turn out to be Vesta, and after tailing her to the site where she had imprisoned her victims, Sam sprung the trap on her, which overall could have gone better as Jody would comment later at the ER as she had the hole in her shoulder patched and a sling fitted.

After a good night's sleep, which Sam was assured by Dean a multitude of times would be PG given that the motel was fully booked and the three men were forced to share a room, Jody slung her bag over her uninjured shoulder and turned to the two hunters and the one fallen angel.

"Heading out?" Sam asked.

She nodded.

"Yeah, I'd tell you boys to stay out of trouble, but what's the point?"

Sam and Dean swooped in for hugs.

"Thanks, Jody." Dean said sincerely. "For everything. Not just saving the day."

She smirked and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"Take care, Dean." She glanced over at Cas. "And hang on to this one. Angel or not, he's good for you."

Dean looked over at Cas with what he knew was probably a stupid, dopey grin but what the hell.

"Yeah, I know." he agreed.

"And you." she said, pointing at Cas. "Take care of my boys here."

Castiel smiled and nodded.

"I will try."

Jody smiled and pulled Cas in for a hug, which he tentatively reciprocated, still not quite comfortable with physical displays of affection from any one other than Dean and perhaps Sam.

"Don't get the door for me or anything." she teased as she moved to leave. "Oh, and Dean." she said, turning in the doorframe, "You won't forget…"

Dean nodded.

"I'll pass it along."

She smiled and shut the motel room door. Dean turned to find Sam and Cas giving him questioning looks.

"She gave me a letter to deliver."

…

Back at the bunker Dean stood in front of Crowley's door. He had so far avoided the former demon as much as possible, especially after his recent activities, but a promise was a promise so Dean squared his shoulders and knocked firmly on the door, opening it and stepping inside when he was invited.

Crowley looked up from his book, room much tidier and more organized that it had been the last time Dean had been in it, granted that had been a different room. His eyebrows rose at the sight of the evasive older Winchester.

"Well, well, well. The prodigal son. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Dean squared his jaw and held out the letter, the name Crowley scrawled in Jody's neat hand on the front.

"This is for you." he said tersely, stepping forward so the man could take it.

Crowley accepted the letter, staring at it as though it were some rare treasure.

Dean turned to leave but Crowley stopped him.

"Thank you, Dean." he said meaningfully.

Dean turned back. He nodded brusquely and moved to leave, reaching the door before turning again.

"I know it can't be easy." he said, voice tight as though he was having to force the words out.

Crowley frowned up at him, more surprise at the gruff hunter speaking to him at all than confusion at what he was saying.

"That first year after hell was…hard. I can't imagine what it's been like for you."

Crowley looked at him warily.

"Why are you saying this?" he asked, baffled by the uncharacteristic behaviour.

Dean sighed and bit his lip, resting his hands on his hips, clearly as uncomfortable with the situation as Crowley was.

"Because I've been there. In that deep dark pit that seems to suck everything away until all that's left is a desire for it to be over."

Crowley raised an interested eyebrow, but said nothing.

Dean cleared his throat.

"Just don't try it again, you hear?"

Crowley nodded.

"I don't have plans to dispatch myself from this world anytime soon."

Dean nodded.

"Good. Cause it was hell to get the blood out of the sheets the last time."

And with that he left the former demon alone with the letter and a head full of questions about Dean Winchester.

…

Dean was already in bed, hands clasped and arms wrapped around bent knees, by the time Cas came back from the bathroom.

Dean still couldn't quite get over the look of Cas in soft flannel pants and his old ratty t-shirts that Cas always insisted on wearing, despite having his own.

He smiled up at him and Cas smiled back, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and turning to face him.

"I'm sorry." Dean said softly, averting his eyes and staring down at the comforter.

Cas put a hand on his knee

"It's okay, Dean." he assured. "I know that you are still healing from what your father did to you. Just know that I am here, regardless of whether or not you feel comfortable pursuing a sexual relationship."

Dean smiled at Castiel's formal way of speaking, and covered the hand that sat on his knee with his own before leaning in and pressing his lips to Cas'.

The kiss began softly, sweetly; a gentle touch of lips that sparked far more sensations than such a small gesture ought to. Dean sucked a breath in though his nose and brought a hand up to tangle in Castiel's short, dark hair, tilting his head and pushing ever so slightly, moaning as Cas responded in kind. Dean pulled back, using the hand that was in Cas' hair to guide the man along with him until he was lying back against the pillows with Cas hovering above him.

Dean broke away from the kiss, both men gasping as they stared into each other's eyes.

"Cas…" Dean said breathlessly, "I want you."

Cas looked unsure.

"Dean—"

"Cas, please." Dean interrupted. "I want to do this, I need to do it."

"Why, Dean?" Cas said, temper on the verge of flaring again. "To prove that you can? To prove yourself to your father?"

Dean shook his head.

"No, not to prove anything. To show you."

"Show me what?"

Dean looked intently into Castiel's vivid blue eyes.

"How I feel. How much I love you."

Cas still looked apprehensive.

"I don't know, Dean."

"I don't want to have sex with you, Cas."

Castiel frowned, wondering if he had perhaps misread the situation.

"I want to make love to you." Dean was surprised he had actually managed to get those words out, but in the moment they had just felt right. "I want a connection. No adios." When Cas still looked uncertain, he continued. "And I want, no, I _need_ to do this. Not because of my father or because we need to capture a virginity Goddess or even just to prove to you how I feel, I…I need to do it for me. Because when I signed that pledge yesterday, I did feel like I was letting go. I did feel like I was wiping my slate clean." He sighed and shook his head. "For as long as I can remember the…memory of what my dad did was there every time I had sex. But here, now, finally it's just us. And I'm not doing this to prove a point or to show that I can. I'm doing because I want it. Because it's my choice."

Cas considered Dean's plea. Perhaps he was being overly cautious. Perhaps Dean didn't need time. Perhaps he just needed for it to be his decision.

"I still don't think this is particularly healthy."

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Since when is anything I do particularly healthy?"

"True." Cas agreed. He chewed on his bottom lip as he considered. "Okay."

Dean grinned and went in for another kiss.

Cas pressed gently against his chest and they broke away.

"But if you feel you need to stop, for any reason, you tell me. All right?"

Dean nodded.

"All right."

"Promise?"

Dean's expression went serious.

"I promise."

Cas still looked wary.

"I'll say 'Poughkeepsie', okay?"

Cas frowned.

"It's my and Sam's safe word. It means cut and run."

Cas nodded.

"Poughkeepsie. Got it."

Dean smiled.

"Okay?"

Cas responded with a smile of his own.

"Okay."

Dean leant up and captured Castiel's lips in a searing kiss, grabbing hold of Cas' hips and pulling him in, moving slightly against him as he slipped his tongue into the other man's mouth, shivering with sensation as he rocked against the angel above him.

Cas moaned into his mouth, and Dean's arms moved up and around him, hands splaying out against strong muscle and then tightening into fists, grabbing at the soft cotton of his t-shirt. A wave of pleasure swept through his body as Dean rutted against him.

Cas rolled into his side, Dean moving with him attached as they were at the mouth. Dean broke away and began trailing kisses across Castiel's clean-shaven cheek, finding the sweet spot beneath his ear and smiling against the skin when Cas made his pleasure known in an obscenely vocal way.

Cas trailed his hand down Dean's back, hesitating slightly before reaching lower and pawing at Dean's firm backside. Dean moaned and Cas looked down, locking eyes with the hunter and sending him a meaningful look.

"I'm good." he said, his voice rough, his pupils blown wide with pleasure.

Cas dipped down and brought his lips once again to Dean's, letting out a surprised sound as Dean reached down and brushed his hand against Cas, smiling against his lips at the sound.

They continued, kissing and caressing, exploring; a tangled mass of gasps and limbs and sweat and smiles. Dean produced the items he had bought at the drugstore while Castiel had been procuring the oak branch, and he guided Cas as they positioned themselves until Dean was lying on his back, hips raised on a pillow and Cas was hovering over him, a hesitant, almost scared look on his face.

"Are you sure?" he asked, nervous despite the fact that Dean had made it this far without any sign of breaking down.

Dean looked up at him, his face relaxed and smiling, eyes crinkling in that way that Cas loved so much because it meant that Dean was truly smiling, and he looked at Cas like Cas was the entire world.

He raised his hand and brushed it through the fallen angel's dark hair, running the pad of his thumb gently over his cheek. Cas brought his own hand up to cover it, long, gentle fingers curling around Dean's.

"I've never been more sure of anything." he said, quiet but certain.

Cas smiled at the love he could see radiating from every fibre of the hunter's being.

A thought seemed to occur to Dean.

"Are _you_ sure?"

Castiel smiled and took Dean's hand, interlacing their fingers and squeezing.

"I have been ready since I gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." he said in his low, gruff voice. He was looking down on Dean with an intensity in his eyes, his hair mussed from Dean running his fingers through it, and he looked so much like he did that first night in that barn that Dean half expected a flash of light to cast the monstrous shadows of his wings on the walls behind them. But there was no flash of light, only Cas, lowering his face down for one last sweet kiss before kneeling back and uncapping the small bottle.

Dean had been truthful when he said he was sure, but there was still a part of him that was nervous. He had lived this moment over and over for nearly two decades and it never ended well, not in his imagination. Cas pushed a finger in and Dean prepared himself for pain that never came. Idly he realized that he had closed his eyes and opened them to find Cas hovering above him, calling his name.

"Dean? Are you all right? Dean?"

Dean looked back at him and smiled, nodding, relaxing at the sight of one of the few people he trusted the most hovering above him with concern shining in his deep blue eyes.

"Yeah." he said. "I'm fine."

Cas paused and then nodded, pushing another finger in and Dean relaxed, looking up at the angel and focusing entirely on him. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed except them in this moment. Castiel's fingers brushed against something inside him and Dean gasped as a jolt of pleasure shot through him and he leaned back into the pillows as he rode the wave.

"Dean?" Cas asked as he continued to prep the hunter, his perfect recall coming in handy as he thought back to the information he's gleaned from the web on how to do this. That had certainly been an interesting Internet search.

Dean fought to catch his breath.

"That didn't happen last time." he said idly with a smile as Cas prepared himself.

They locked eyes and Cas reached for Dean's hand, squeezing as he pushed himself in.

The feeling was like nothing he ever imagined. Primal urge took over as heat surrounded him and suddenly he knew what he had to do. He kept his eyes locked on Dean's as he pulled out and then pushed in again, careful to go slow as he focused on the other hunter, gauging his reaction and ready for any sign that he should stop. But Dean showed no signs of distress. Quite the opposite, in fact, as he threw his head back, eyes closed, expression blissful as Cas took him in hand, stroking to the rhythm of his own, innate movements.

The pressure built and built until, without conscious thought or purpose, Cas threw his head back, eyes closing, face contorted in ecstasy as the pleasure came to a climax and his orgasm hit and he lost all control. He was dimly aware of Dean clenching around him as he rode the wave of his own orgasm and Cas forced his gaze down to see him, head thrown back against the pillows, and he watched as Dean let go, allowing raw, primal emotion to show on his face. His eyes cracked open and their eyes met. Cas still held Dean's hand in his own and he squeezed it as their movements slowed and Cas finally pulled out, panting and sagging in the aftermath. He heard a chuckle and Cas looked at Dean, whose face was split into a grin.

"Well, what did you think?" he asked.

Cas stared at him as he worked to get his mouth back up and running. In the meantime he nodded.

"I greatly enjoyed that."

Dean laughed again and reached up to run his hands over Cas' smooth chest, fingers skimming over the now-healed ribs and the ink of his warding tattoo.

"Yeah, it's pretty great."

Castiel reached over to the side table for the tissue box and grabbed a few, wiping away the remnants of their lovemaking before looking back at Dean.

"How was it for you?"

Dean, who had been watching Cas' movements hypnotically, snapped back to attention and he looked up and smiled.

"It was amazing." he said, voice catching in his throat as he fought to stay in control. His body was still teeming with emotions and he could feel the tears surge. Really? He was going to cry after sex now? Come on, Dean, you've done enough crying over the past few weeks. Get it together.

But despite the internal pep talk, he still felt the painful lump form in his throat. Cas slid off his lap, coming down to lie beside him, taking Dean's head in his strong hands and looking at him in concern.

"Dean? Dean. What's wrong? Did I do something wrong? I knewI should have stopped this, I shouldn't have—"

Dean grabbed his hands, which were dancing agitatedly over his cheeks and through his hair, and smiled through the tears.

"No, Cas." He said in a choked voice. "It was perfect. Amazing. It was exactly how it should have been."

His voice cut off and Cas, realizing that the tears were cathartic, pulled Dean's head over to rest in the crook of his neck, allowing the hunter to cry quietly into his shoulder while he rubbed soothing circles into his back.

Dean finished and moved back, wiping away the treacherous tears and apologizing for his behaviour.

"I'm sorry." he laughed, a pathetic attempt to hide the breakdown.

"Don't be." Cas said softly.

Dean sniffed, "I'm just so sick of this. All these tears, they're so stupid."

Cas frowned.

"They are a genuine expression of how you feel." he said. "Why would that be considered stupid? And why would you want to hide it?"

Dean felt his cheeks burn and he shrugged.

"Crying after sex, not exactly the most endearing quality in a person."

Cas lifted his chin, forcing Dean's gaze up to meet his own.

"Dean, you're recovering from a trauma. This…experience was a big deal for you. A big step towards recovery from what happened. It is perfectly reasonable for your emotions to be heightened." He kissed Dean, long and hard, trying to express all that he could not find the words to in that one simple gesture. "I'm so proud of you." he whispered against the hunter's full lips. He felt Dean smile against him and move in close, seeking out warmth and comfort.

"Thanks, Cas." he whispered back, feeling the pull of sleep as his body succumbed to post-coital exhaustion. Cas reached back to turn off the light and gathered Dean in his arms, letting his eyes fall closed, a contented smile on his face.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Rainbow Fruit Loop for Betaing.
> 
> I figured the boys (and you guys) deserved some fluff after all the angst so here you go.
> 
> Enjoy!

Sam rushed through the halls of the bunker, tearing around corners and skidding into the main room, heading for the library. Entering, he glanced around, searching for Dean and Cas who were not in the gym nor the gun range nor their bedroom nor any other place he had searched so far.

Movement caught the corner of his eye and he rounded a column to peer into one of the alcoves where a solitary lamp was lit. Castiel was sitting on a couch set back in the corner between the bookshelves, dressed in sweatpants and a loose cotton Black Sabbath T-shirt - one of Dean's. He held a book up in one hand, eyes skimming the pages as his other hand carded through the hair of Dean who lay sleeping, stretched out over the length of the couch, head resting in Cas' lap, a small smile playing on his lips.

Despite his haste, Sam paused for a moment to take in the sight. Domesticity had never been a big part of their lives, but ever since the former angel had shown up at the bunker, Dean and Cas had fallen into a comfortable routine so different from their previous, world-saving, nomadic existence.

Dean was calm, content. The quick smile that Sam remembered from childhood which had been slowly fading over the years was back, as was his laugh. His eyes were brighter and held none of the world-weary exhaustion that had been present since his resurrection at Castiel's hand, and further amplified by the harsh year spent fighting for his life in purgatory. He had also been drinking less; no longer putting away a bottle of whiskey a night and Sam found himself affected by his brother's new, more relaxed attitude. It was true that Sam hadn't been particularly receptive to the idea of the bunker as their home, but recently he had begun to settle in. He had even decorated his room, hanging up the few photos he had of the two of them.

It still kept him awake some nights though, the fear that as soon as he let his guard down, as soon as he let himself call this place home, that something would happen and they would have to leave again, get back in the car and drive away from yet another missed opportunity at some permanency. As a child it had been all he had longed for. He relished the memories of the times spent in proper houses, the month-long stretches where they would stay put in one house and one town and one school. At first he had been naïve enough to think that that would be it, that that was where they would stay and he wouldn't have to shove his life into a duffle bag again and watch as that part of himself disappeared out the back window of the Impala as they skipped town. It had never seemed to bother Dean but then, Dean had memories of a happy home, with his own room and toys and someone to cut the crusts off his bread. Their father had always refused to do that; it was a waste of food that they couldn't afford, but all Sam had wanted growing up had been a home.

When he had finally gotten to Stanford, he had found an apartment and stayed there, determined that he wouldn't leave until he absolutely had to. But that decision had been made for him when Jessica had died screaming on the ceiling and the flames that claimed her also claimed the first place he had allowed himself to call home.

And it had only gotten worse since then. Constantly on the run, constantly moving. Even Bobby's house went eventually, and after Amelia…It just hurt too much and he didn't want to put himself through the pain.

But then he thought of Dean and how strong he had been the past few months, years; trying to heal from what their father had done to him. How hard it must have been for him to open himself up to Cas, to expose his abused heart to the possibility of more pain. And yet he had done it and Sam felt awed and inspired by his brother's strength, as he had always been.

He remembered the first time his father had handed him a shotgun. How heavy it had been and how clumsy he had felt holding it. He remembered his father's terse instructions, his gruff voice making him more and more nervous and afraid of getting it wrong, of doing something stupid, until the weapon was shaking in his grasp and John Winchester's infamous temper had all but exploded. He remembered how Dean had stepped forward, placing his steady hands over Sam's quaking ones, still too small to even hold the gun properly, and guiding it into position, showing him that he could do it and holding on until his grip was as steady as his older brother's. Dean had always been there for Sam, not only as a surrogate parent and protector, but as a role model for what Sam wanted to be when he grew up.

Dean had always been his strength and, if he could overcome his fears, Sam could damn well do the same.

Castiel looked up from his book, taking in Sam's heavy breathing as he worked to catch his breath from his mad dash through the bunker. His eyes squinted and brow furrowed in a silent inquiry.

"Something's happened." Sam said softly.

Cas considered the hunter's serious tone and set aside his book, gently shaking the older Winchester awake.

"Dean, wake up."

Dean let out a sleepy moan and he shifted in his supine position on the couch.

"Dean." Cas tried again, shaking his shoulder once more. "Sam has something to tell us."

"Wha—?" he asked, eyes cracking open, taking in his partner hovering over him and his brother standing a few feet away. "Wuzzat?"

It occurred to Sam that it didn't normally take Dean this long to wake up. He had always been a light sleeper and had a remarkable ability to snap from sleep to waking in a matter of seconds. Sam had always assumed it was Dean's natural state but he was beginning to suspect it was yet another fallout from their father's puritanical child-raising methods.

Dean rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he sat up; hair standing on end from the brushing it had received at Castiel's hand. Cas smiled endearingly at it and reached out, smoothing it down as Dean yawned widely.

"What's up, Sammy?" he asked as Sam grabbed a chair and took a seat.

"There's been an incident. A massacre in a biker bar in Wyoming. Police reports say there are what look like wing marks burned into the ground for each victim."

"Angels killing angels." Cas whispered, his shoulders sagging and his eyes growing sad at the news.

"'Fraid so." Sam said. "I'm sorry Cas."

Dean put a hand on Castiel's shoulder as the angel let his head fall into his hands.

"I thought things were all quiet on the angel front." Dean said as he continued to rub soothing circles into Cas' back. "Even that Buddy Boyle guy is off the air."

Sam shrugged.

"Maybe it's the calm before the storm?" he offered.

"They are grouping into factions, warring amongst themselves." Cas said, raising his face and resting his chin on his clasped hands. "It is as I had feared."

Dean nodded.

"All right, well, we may as well go check it out, get as much intel as we can. If we're lucky we might even be able to figure out who's behind it all."

An hour later Dean and Sam were checking their weapons as they finished packing, ready to head out.

Castiel came around the corner, holding a blue and silver striped tie in one hand.

"Dean, can you help me tie this? I don't seem to be able to get the hang of it."

Dean looked up to see Cas dressed in the suit he'd bought him in the department store on his first day in the bunker.

"Cas, what are you doing?"

Cas looked down, hoping he had put the clothes on properly. Seeing nothing obviously amiss, he looked back up and frowned.

"Suiting up. We are going in as Federal Officers are we not? I still have the badge you gave me." he said, fishing it out of his inner breast pocket.

He had managed to hang onto it through everything. He had kept it in the pocket of his trench coat when Dean had given it back to him, along with a photo of the two Winchester brothers he had kept, despite having an eidetic memory of the two men. It had warmed him to look at it, a confusing show of sentimentality, but one which he had nonetheless bowed to. It and the badge, along with the memories they embodied, had kept him going in purgatory and his time spent on the run from Naomi and on the sleepless nights in his first week of being human when everything else was strange and cold and unfamiliar.

Dean continued to stare at him.

"Yeah Cas, but what are you doing in a suit at all? You're not thinking of coming with us, are you? I mean, this isn't a simple salt and burn or a rogue goddess, this is an angel situation. Last we checked they were gunning for you. Don't you think you'll be safer here?"

Castiel's frown deepened and he replaced the badge, sighing deeply.

"If angels are slaughtering one another I have to do what I can to help, Dean." he said emphatically. "I can't just sit idly by no matter how scared I may be. This is partly my fault and it's a risk I should be willing to take to help my brothers."

Dean looked to Sam, who shrugged. He rolled his eyes.

"Fine." he said, moving over and snatching the tie from his hand and threading it around his neck and under the collar of his dress shirt. "You know you really should learn how to do this yourself." he commented as he knotted it quickly and efficiently.

Tightening the knot and straightening everything, Dean couldn't deny that he liked Cas back in a suit, especially one that fit and brought out his eyes. He cleared his throat and pulled back as he realized that his hands had lingered on the ex-angel's firm chest longer than he'd planned and he looked over to see Sam smirking at him.

"Shut up."

Cas held out his hands.

"What do you think?"

Dean shrugged.

"Eh, it'll do." he said, not willing to admit what he was actually thinking in front of his brother.

Sam seemed to be trying to contain laughter at Cas' childishly excited expression.

"Agent." he greeted.

Cas smiled.

"Agent." he threw back.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"God, you guys are dorks." he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"Hey," Cas said and Dean turned back, "Cas is back in town."

Dean looked between his partner's exuberant expression and Sam who was desperately trying to contain his mirth.

"Seriously did you—did he just say that?"

…

The crime scene was in disarray.

"These angels were…butchered." Cas said, looking over the photos as the police milled around them. "Much more violence than is required."

Sam took the file from Cas and looked it over, before perusing the scene.

"Definitely took more than one or two killers to pull this off." he agreed, taking in the scorched wing marks; much smaller than those of other angels he'd seen, a sign of their low ranking as Cas had explained.

"Hit squad?" Dean suggested. "You mentioned warring factions." he said to Cas.

"It is certainly possible. Angels were not built to lead, they were created to follow; to take orders. Heaven has been in disarray for so long. Between Raphael and Naomi and…me." He sighed and shook his head, "And now being stranded on earth, wingless and separated. Angels are happiest when they have a purpose to serve, regardless of what that purpose is. If a few select angels with enough ambition were to take charge, the others would follow willingly."

Dean sighed and rubbed at his eyes.

"Okay, so we got an angelic turf war on our hands and no idea who's behind it." He turned to Cas. "You still tuned into angel radio?" Dean asked.

Cas sighed.

"Yes. But I've been blocking it out." he said softly.

Dean frowned.

"What? Why? This could help us, Cas!"

Cas closed his eyes.

"It was too painful."

Dean paused.

"What do you mean?"

Cas looked at him, pain shining through his blue eyes.

"They were so confused. Scared. Lost. And there was nothing I could do. I helped bring it about and yet I was powerless to fix it." He closed his eyes again in shame. "I tuned it out because I couldn't listen to their cries anymore."

Dean sighed and rested his hand on his back.

"It wasn't your fault Cas." he said softly. "That was all Metatron. And we'll make him pay. You'll see."

Cas shook his head.

"I was a fool. I should have—"

"Don't." Dean said sharply, cutting him off. Cas looked up. "Don't do that."

The stared at each other for a moment before Cas nodded resignedly.

"Okay. Well," Dean said, changing the subject, "we can't do much else from here. Let's go get a bite or something and come up with a game plan.

…

Sam, Cas and Dean retired to a nearby bar to discuss the case.

"You know, Cas, are you sure you're ready to jump back into all this? I mean, I know I've been dragging you along on cases but, this is angels, man." Dean didn't want to admit it, but he had been more than a little shaken by the violence of the crime scene they had just visited. These were the same angels who had been tracking Cas, who were out for his blood, who wanted to punish him for destroying heaven and use him to find a way to restore their home. Despite the Enochian warding, Dean was nervous bringing Cas so close to the fray. If anything happened to him…

"Hey." Cas answered, already a little tipsy from the one beer he was still working on, "You once told me that you don't choose what you do. It chooses you." He winked and Dean had to duck his head to keep from laughing out loud at his adorably tipsy boyfriend. "I'm a part of this." he said, clinking his bottle with Dean's. "Like it or not."

San nodded appreciatively

"All right, well, then, in that case, we have to figure out, uh, who are we up against, what do they want, and how do we stop them." Sam commented, taking a pull from his bottle of beer

"I suspect they are looking for a way to reverse Metatron's spell." Cas reasoned. "Perhaps with the intention of taking over heaven."

"Do you have any idea who might be behind either of these factions?" Dean asked.

Cas sighed and looked pensive.

"A few possibilities spring to mind," he said, "but speculation would be useless. We need information."

Dean nodded in agreement.

"All right," Sam said, "I'm gonna get us another round."

"Nah, I'll get it." Cas insisted, hopping off his stool and chugging the last of his beer, nearly overbalancing as he turned and set the empty bottle on the table, "You know, I've never done this." he said with excitement in his eyes.

Dean smiled after him.

"Lightweight." he said endearingly. He had so far never let Cas have more than one beer at a time ever since discovering that the newly-human angel had not retained his alcohol tolerance when he'd fallen.

Sam grinned as his brother's smitten look.

"So, how's it going between you two?" he asked.

Dean looked over and nodded.

"Good, good. Things are good." he answered succinctly.

Sam nodded and fiddled with the label of his empty bottle of beer.

"How's umm…you know…" He gestured vaguely and Dean frowned.

"How's what?"

Sam opened his mouth and closed it again without speaking and shook his head.

"You know what? Never mind, I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business. Forget about it."

Dean raised an eyebrow and suppressed a grin at his brother's obvious discomfort.

"Are you trying to ask how our sex life is going?"

Sam's face coloured and he shrugged.

"I don't know. I mean I've been watching you two make moon eyes at each other for five years, half of which were spent assuming you were totally straight so…" he shrugged, "You can't blame me for being curious." He shook his head, "But I shouldn't have asked. Especially given…everything. It's your business and nobody else's and I'm sorry."

Dean drained the last sip from his bottle and glanced over where Cas was getting their round, grinning as he watched him lean against the bar and wave politely to someone, a goofy smile on his face. He turned back, setting the bottle down and playing with the label as he avoided his brother's eyes.

He cleared his throat.

"It's good." He glanced hesitantly up at his brother who looked back tentatively. "I…we uh…" he cleared his throat, "We had sex. And it was…" he nodded, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips as he recalled the act, "It was perfect."

There was a pause before Sam cleared his throat and spoke, "That's awesome Dean."

Dean looked up again to see Sam smiling at him with distinctly misty eyes.

"I'm really happy for you. And proud of you. You deserve this."

Dean nodded, warmed by his brother's words. Despite being incredibly uncomfortable with the topic of conversation, it felt good getting it out there, as though every word spoken out loud dissolved a little piece of the secret he'd been holding inside for so long, leaving him a little lighter each time.

"So we'll be getting separate motel rooms from now on then." Sam added.

"Yeah, yeah, definitely." Dean agreed.

They sat in awkward silence for a few moments before Dean spoke up again.

"I'm really, really happy." He said it with a frown, as though he couldn't quite understand how it had happened.

Sam didn't know what to say to that, and luckily was saved by Cas coming back with the next round.

"Here we are, three brewskies." he said, setting them on the table and retaking his seat.

Dean stared at him with soft eyes and a small grin on his face, which he was sure looked totally stupid but he really couldn't bring himself to care.

"What?" Cas asked as he settled on the barstool.

Dean shook his head.

"You're just adorable." he answered, grabbing one of the beers and taking a gulp.

Really, Dean ought to have stopped Cas at two beers but the man had managed to get hold of a bar menu, and was curious about all the different mixed drinks and their outrageous names, and if he was going to be human, then he really ought to know about these things. So Dean ordered Cas a strawberry Daiquiri, and by the time it arrived, the three men were beginning to attract the attention of a group of girls sitting a few tables away, one of whom eventually got up the courage to come over.

"Hey." she said, brown hair falling in soft curls down her back, her minimal make-up enhancing her naturally delicate features, "My friends and I are wondering if maybe you guys wanted to join us?" she asked coyly.

Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam who blushed and sputtered, before taking over.

"I'm sure my single brother here would love to join you." he said with his most charming smile.

She smiled.

"And what about you two?" she asked, eyeing Cas in a way that sparked a tiny chord of territorial possessiveness in Dean.

"Oh." he said, glancing at the man who looked nervous and out of his depth. "We're unfortunately taken." he said with a smile, taking Castiel's hand and intertwining their fingers. A small thrill of nerves shot through him and his heart rate picked up as the implications of what he'd just done hit him full force. This wasn't exactly the most progressive town in Wyoming, and announcing their relationship like this might not turn out to be such a good plan. And besides, was he even ready for the whole world to know about him and Cas? Close friends and Crowley were one thing, but random strangers?

The girl eyed their clasped hands and her eyes widened.

"Ohhhh, got it." She nodded and shrugged. "You could join us anyway. The more the merrier."

Dean started. That was it? Really? He looked at Cas, who was now nursing a long island iced tea and would probably not make it though another.

"We're probably gonna head out soon." he said. "But Sammy here is definitely up for some company."

Sam sent him a glare for the nickname before turning to the pretty brunette.

"It's Sam." he said, grabbing his drink and standing.

Dean could see her knees go weak when he reached his full height.

"Heather." She answered breathlessly as the two made their way back to her table. Before she sat down, she turned back and gave Dean and Cas a little wave. "It was nice to meet you two."

Dean gave them a wave and smirked, turning back to Cas who had his face propped up on his hand, and his arm and most of his upper torso resting on the table.

"That w's nice of you, Dean." he said, his words beginning to slur together. "You're a nice brother. And a nice b'yfrien'."

Dean chucked.

"Thanks, Cas."

Cas blinked at him.

"Am I a good b'yfrien'? 'S that even what we are? 'M very new to this, so I'm not sure."

"You're an excellent boyfriend." Dean assured him. "And yes I suppose that's what we are, although I don't really like that term."

"Why not?"

Dean shrugged.

"Because I sound like a teenage girl when I say it."

Cas nodded and nearly overbalanced.

"I un'erstand." he slid his glass closer to him and attempted to get the straw into his mouth. It took a few tries.

"All right." Dean said, finishing off his beer and standing, "It's time to get you to bed before I have to pour you into the car."

Cas slurped the last of his drink and sat up, nearly falling off his stool before Dean caught him.

"But I don' wanna go." he protested, swaying slightly. "I wanna try more drinks with strange names like…" he picked up the menu and squinted at it, "Fuzzy Navel." He looked back up at Dean who had grabbed the suit jacket Cas had shucked earlier, and was holding it out. And which Cas was ignoring, "Whas ina Fuzzy Navel, Dean?"

"I don't know, peach schnapps or something? Come on put your jacket on."

It took Cas a few tries to get his arm in the sleeve of the jacket, and once he had it on he stood and promptly fell into Dean.

"Dean." he said, hiccoughing as Dean steadied him, "Everythin's spinning."

"Yeah." Dean agreed, steering them towards the exit and receiving a smirk from Sam as he passed their table, "That's 'cause you're drunk, Cas."

"'M drunk?" he asked, stumbling over the front stoop of the bar. Dean reached out a hand to catch his fall.

"Yes." he confirmed, unlocking the passenger door of the Impala one-handed and settling him in the seat, before rounding the car and getting in behind the wheel. He turned to Cas, whose head was lolling back, resting against the top of the seatback. "If you feel like you're gonna puke, tell me immediately, because if you puke in the car, so help me…"

Cas pulled himself up and turned, staring, or attempting to stare, at Dean with serious, half-lidded eyes.

"I will endeav'r not t' vomit in your vehicle D'n." He said with all the resolve he could muster in his current state.

Dean smiled and caressed his cheek.

"Thanks, babe."

The endearment slipped from his mouth so easily it took him a few seconds to realize what he'd said.

"Wha' d'you jus' call me?" Cas asked, his brow furrowed.

Dean fought to keep his expression calm as his heart pounded against his chest.

"I just called you babe." he said, not really able to believe it himself.

It took a few seconds for Cas to register what he'd said, but when he did his face relaxed and his mouth spread into an easy grin.

"You called me babe?"

Dean nodded.

"I like that."

"Yeah?"

Cas nodded, the gesture sloppy and uncoordinated.

"Yessssss."

Dean nodded again.

"Okay." he said, turning and gunning the engine, pulling out of the parking lot and towards the closest motel.

Cas sat in silence for a few moments, staring up at Dean from where his head rested against the seat before speaking up.

"Will tha' be yer pet n'me f'r me?" he asked, his slurred words getting sloppy as he began to drift off. Dean prayed he wouldn't pass out before they got a room. Of course Cas would turn out to be a drowsy drunk.

"Do you want it to be?"

Cas considered the question before nodding.

"Okay then…babe." He tried it out again and looked over to see Cas grinning again.

"D'you want me t' give you one?"

Dean paled at the thought of what Cas might come up with.

"I dunno. I really like the way you say my name."

He glanced over again and Cas was trying to look serious again.

"Dean." he said, enouncing the name carefully, his voice low and gravelly like it had been the first time they'd met.

Heat shot through Dean at the sound, and he grinned.

"You like that?" Cas asked, his eyes burning with desire, and _holy_ crap was Cas flirting with him?

"Yeah." he said breathlessly, thanking someone when a motel with a vacancy sign appeared in the next block.

Cas was trying to get out of the car on his own by the time Dean came back with a room key.

He helped the sloshed man up and into the room, settling him on the bed where he fell backwards, splayed out.

"I c'n feel th' earth m'ving again, Dean." he commented as Dean came back with the bags.

"Again?" he asked as he fished a change of clothes out of the bag and moved over to the bed, pulling Cas back up into a sitting position as he started to pull off his clothes.

"I use t' be able t' feel it. Th' earth m've, orb'ting th' sun. Now I can' feel it anymore. Can' feel 'lot 'f thingssss." His head fell forward onto Dean's shoulder as Dean worked his shoes off. "Can' see 'lot 'f things either."

Dean unbuttoned his dress shirt and pulled it off, leaving him in his t-shirt as Cas continued to ramble drunkenly.

"But some things 're new. Like food. Food tas'es better now. 'N water. 'memer th' firs' time I had water af'er I fell. Tas'ed sooo gooooood."

Dean stripped off his dress pants, leaving him in just his shirt and boxers, and pulled him up, manoeuvring them over to the bathroom where he plunked Cas down on the closed toilet lid.

"You need to puke?" Dean asked.

Cas frowned in consideration as he listed back and forth before glancing up at the hunter.

"No." he said, shaking his head. Dean reached out a hand to grab him before he slid off.

Dean nodded and grabbed the angel's toothbrush, smearing some toothpaste on it and wetting it before handing it to Cas.

"Can you brush your teeth?"

Cas nodded and made a grab for the implement, which he missed. Dean grabbed his hand and put the toothbrush in it. Cas held it, staring at it before moving it towards his mouth and managing to get it in without too much trouble.

Dean went to get changed.

When he came back Cas was nodding off against the sink, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

"Hey." he said with a smile, sitting himself down on the edge of the tub

Cas looked over at him and grinned, and Dean grabbed the toothbrush before it could fall out.

"Open up." he said and Cas obeyed, allowing Dean to scrub his teeth. "Spit." He ordered, producing an empty glass, Cas obeyed. "Rinse." he said, handing him another glass, this one filled with water. Cas took a sip and then spat it out into the empty one. "All right, now drink the rest." he said, handing back the glass of water and standing to rinse out the glass before brushing his own teeth.

Once they were done, Dean helped Cas off the toilet and he promptly collapsed, boneless, into Dean's arms.

"Come on." he said encouragingly, guiding the nearly unconscious man to the bed. Cas moaned something unintelligible and Dean settled him under the covers, slipping in beside him.

"Go to sleep, Cas." Dean said softly.

Cas turned and burrowed in close, intertwining himself with Dean as though trying to merge their bodies together.

"L've you, Dean." he said almost unintelligibly.

Dean grinned and pressed a kiss to his hair.

"I love you too, babe."


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during 9x09. 
> 
> The timeline of this episode is a little confusing (admittedly, the timeline of the whole show is a little confusing) so I've condensed it somewhat.

The vibrating of Dean's phone on the bedside table woke Dean, and he carefully extricated himself from his still-sleeping partner, before grabbing it and stepping outside the motel room to take the call.

"Sam?"

"Hey, Dean."

"Where'd you end up?

"The Huron Motel."

"Us too. So? Did you score?"

He could hear Sam roll his eyes over the phone.

"Shut up, Dean."

"Well? Did you?"

"…"

"Yes."

"Nice."

"Whatever. How was getting Cas back?"

Dean chuckled. "He was fine. Much more well behaved than your first time drunk."

"No fair, Dean, you got me wasted on rum, which I still can't drink by the way. All Cas had last night was beer and fruity girly drinks."

"Whatever, man." Dean said. "At least he didn't puke."

"Dude, when I threw up you laughed and told me to try to make it come out of my nose."

"Ha!" Dean laughed. "Yeah, that was funny."

"Anyway. It's getting late. I'm gonna grab some food and then I'll come down. What's your room number?"

"One oh three. Bring coffee." Dean added. "Lots of coffee."

They hung up and Dean went back inside, shutting the door as gently as he could before moving back to the bed. As soon as he sunk down onto the firm mattress, Cas began to stir. He moaned as he turned his head and cracked an eye, his hair standing on end.

"De'n?" he mumbled, "Wha' 'appened?"

"You had one too many Daiquiris last night." he answered, grabbing the bottle of aspirin he'd retrieved and shaking out a few. "Here. Sit up."

Cas pulled himself up, taking the proffered pills and swallowing them, chasing them with a glass of water that Dean handed him, which he drained before handing it back and slumping back against the pillows.

"How're you feeling?" Dean asked.

Cas just moaned again, and moved his head over until it was resting in Dean's lap. Dean chuckled.

"Don't worry." he assured, carding his fingers through Cas' soft, dark hair, which Cas practically purred at. "Sam's on his way with coffee."

"Hmmm," Cas hummed happily into Dean's lap.

…

Once they had eaten breakfast and Cas was looking marginally better despite the dark circles and bags that still sat under his tired, dull eyes, Sam left to grab his laptop and Dean and Cas sat down to discuss how best to proceed.

"Okay, Sam said he was going to look through obituaries to find out more about those guys who died. Meanwhile, do you have any ideas on how to find out which angels are behind these attacks?"

Cas fidgeted.

"I do have an idea." he said, not sounding too sure.

"What is it?"

"If one of us were to pray for guidance, we may be able to get an angel here who could give us the information we need."

"I'm sorry." Dean said, his voice already alerting Cas that he didn't think this was a particularly good plan. "You want to bring an angel to us? Are you fucking crazy?"

"Dean—"

"Why don't we just invite Metatron over for tea and ask him politely to reopen heaven and give you your grace back? I bet he'll do it if we say pretty please."

"Dean!"

Dean sat back in his chair and crossed his arms petulantly.

"We have very little choice in the matter." Cas said heatedly. "I am sorry that I can't just fly out of here and get you the information that you need, but I can't sit here and do nothing. My brothers and sisters are slaughtering each other because of something that was partially my doing so I have to explore all possible avenues open to me. Besides, I am human and warded, likely my prayer will be lost in the multitude and no one of any consequence will come. And if they do I have you to protect me."

Castiel's eyes were wide and blue and pleading and Dean felt his self-righteous anger deflate as he sat forward again and took his hand.

"You're right. I'm sorry." he shrugged. "I suppose I've done much riskier and stupider things for you and Sam, so I guess I can't really talk."

The corner of Cas' mouth turned up in a small smile.

"Yes you have, and thank you for understanding."

"I'm still not happy with it." Dean added as Cas stood and moved to the bed.

"Neither am I." Cas answered back, kneeling and resting his forearms on the motel comforter. He clasped his hands and closed his eyes, and silence reigned for a moment before he spoke again. "I'm…not familiar with this end of the process."

"Hey," Dean shrugged, "You know what my prayers sounded like. Can't imagine you can do any worse."

Cas smiled.

"I miss your prayers." he said softly, closing his eyes. "Okay. No one may be listening but…I need help."

…

Sam came in to find Dean researching on the computer and Cas sitting on the bed in the full lotus position, mumbling to himself.

Sam frowned at the man and turned to Dean.

"What's he doing?" he mouthed.

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Praying." he said under his breath.

Sam raised his eyebrows.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked.

"No." Dean replied. "But it's our best bet on getting information. I've been digging but I haven't been able to find out any more on Buddy Boyle or who might be funding him. Besides, if any of those dicks do come a knocking, I'm ready."

He hefted an angel blade.

Sam sighed and set his laptop on the table, sitting down.

They worked in silence for a few hours. Every so often Cas would change positions.

Eventually they ordered lunch and had it delivered.

Dean looked over at the figure standing, eyes closed and palms facing upwards at the foot of the bed.

"Hey, Buddha."

Cas cracked an eye and glared over at him.

"You wanna put a pause on your holy mission and come and eat something?"

Cas sighed, lowered his hands and moved to the table.

"Have you found anything worth while?" Dean asked Sam once they were into their meal.

Sam shrugged.

"Some. The biker gang?" he pulled open his laptop and showed them an obituary of one of the victims. "They were known as 'Boyle's Boys'."

"A born-again biker gang?" Dean asked.

"Yep." Sam confirmed, "They were all baptized together. And," he brought up another page, "This guy, Red Dawg's widow said he was always religious, but a week before he died, he came home from a prayer meeting and was 'a changed man filled with divine glory'."

"So, Boyle's at it again." Dean said, "Selling folks on being meat suits for angels. Except now they're being slaughtered which means there's another player on the board. A board we can't see, with players who we have no idea about and basically have superpowers, and could kill us soon as look at us. Perfect."

…

Cas continued to pray after lunch as Dean and Sam continued their research. The light dimmed as they day went on and just as Sam was starting to think about grabbing some dinner, Dean spoke up.

"Hey. Check this out. Another angel attack."

"What? Where?" Sam asked, moving over to look at the computer screen as Cas came over to peek over Dean's shoulder.

"Utah. A, uh, college, uh, Bible-study group and their, uh, their guest speaker – some top-shelf church lady. Insides scorched out, kids' eyes were missing, but, not the church lady's."

"So, she was an angel, too?"

"Sounds like. Uh, and she sang soprano for the Melody Ministry Glee Club."

"Okay?"

"The club goes to its gigs on a bus, and in the case files it says…" he dug through the pile of empty take out containers and garbage on the table to fish out the copies of the police report from the crime scene. "A witness saw the same bus leaving the biker bar not long before the bodies were found."

"So, church-lady angel was at both killings?" Sam commented

Dean nodded.

"I'm guessing that she and whoever she's running with killed Boyle's bikers at the bar and then more of Boyle's boys hit her back."

"When she was recruiting those students to be vessels." Sam sighed, as he looked at the photos on the web, "Wow. It's a bunch of kids."

Cas, who had stopped praying momentarily, stared at the photo a moment longer, his jaw clenched, before moving back the bed, kneeling in front of it, hands clasped firmly, his head bowed.

"I'm just gonna go and get some dinner." Sam announced, grabbing his jacket and moving to the door. "And I'll call Kevin, see if he's found anything useful on the tablet."

A few minutes of silence passed before Cas sighed and sat back on his heels, dropping his hands in a gesture of defeat.

"I don't know how humans do it." he said dejectedly.

"That's why most of us don't anymore." Dean answered. He looked over at the expression of defeat on Castiel's face. "Just take a break. Watch some TV or something."

Cas sighed and stood, moving to the ancient set and turning the dials. Nothing happened.

"Try plugging it in." A voice said from outside the room.

Cas shared a look with Dean who stood, brandishing the angel blade and moving to the wall beside the door, gesturing for Cas to open it.

A pretty young woman in a park ranger's uniform stood on the other side of the door.

"Surely that wasn't the answer you were seeking."

"You're an angel." Cas commented, feeling a jolt of bittersweet elation at seeing one of his brethren after all these months. He gestured for Dean to stand down.

"Muriel." she introduced. "I didn't pick the outfit…" She trailed off as recognition bloomed in her expression. "Castiel?"

She turned away quickly.

"No wait!" he implored, not wanting the hours he had spent praying to have been in vain. "Please, just hear me out."

"It can't be known that I even spoke with you." she said quietly as though angels would suddenly descend on them.

"I just need a moment." Cas pleaded.

"No."

"Please. We need information."

She turned back hesitantly, catching sight of Dean who stood behind Cas in the doorway. Slowly she stepped inside and Cas took a seat on the bed while Muriel stood over him. Dean leaned up against the table, still grasping the blade and not at all pleased with having an angel in their midst, even one as seemingly innocent as Muriel.

Cas explained quickly his side of the story. How Metatron had used him and taken his grace and how the spell seemed to be irreversible.

"Let's say you are telling the truth," she said distrustfully, "and Metatron tricked you. I should still turn you in."

Dean shifted noisily from his seemingly relaxed stance and Muriel eyed the blade and the infamous hunter warily.

"But you won't." Cas said.

"Don't be so sure." she answered.

Dean made to move towards her, but Cas stopped him with a curt, "Dean!" his hand held out in a signal for him to stop. He turned back to Muriel who looked ready to draw her own blade.

"I think you instinctively trust me." Cas reasoned. "We're similar. We both want nothing to do with the fanatics."

"And when you prayed, how did you know you wouldn't get one of them?"

"I'm warded, and my Grace is gone, and I was hoping that I would seem like just another desperate human that the... the militants couldn't care less about."

"And you think I care?"

Cas shrugged.

"You're here. You may know the situation. There is a blood feud between two factions."

Muriel shook her head sadly, her brown eyes pained. "It's madness."

"Who leads the factions?"

"Bartholomew and Malachi."

"Which one was using the Reverend Buddy Boyle?" Dean asked.

Muriel looked over at him. "Bartholomew." she answered, before looking back at Castiel. "He's been growing in power since the beginning, but Malachi has become equally powerful. In some ways, worse."

Castiel nodded in understanding.

"He was always one for anarchy."

"And there is another." she added. "Some say he works for Metatron. Others say he is working for himself."

"Who?"

"Gadreel."

Cas went quiet. Dean glanced back and forth between the two angels.

"Who's Gadreel?" he asked.

Cas looked at Dean, with such deep emotions burning in his blue eyes that it startled Dean with its ferocity, its rage.

"He was the angel tasked with protecting the garden to ensure no evil entered."

Dean frowned.

"The garden? As in Eden?"

Cas nodded.

"He allowed Lucifer in. He broke God's trust. And he has been in Heaven's most secure prison ever since."

"And now he's working for Metatron?"

Muriel shrugged.

"That is what I have heard."

"Shit."

Cas turned back to Muriel.

"But there are those, like you, who would want to stay out of all this?"

"Fewer and fewer. Each side is rounding up those who would try and stay neutral. Angels are being tortured and killed if they don't pledge loyalty."

Cas sighed at the news.

"It's worse than I thought."

"Each side wants to crush the other, overthrow Metatron, and rule heaven, and...heaven under either of them would be..."

"Hell." Cas finished for her.

Suddenly the door flew inwards, splinters of wood flying as the lock was ripped out of the frame. Dean sprung into action, charging the thug who stepped through, but the big guy caught him in a headlock and squeezed tight until he went limp. Cas made a move for the blade and came up with it at the ready, but he was no match for Malachi's bodyguard and he too lost consciousness.

…

"Yeah, Sam, I understand. Okay. Look, I'm doing this as fast as I can but…I know…yeah, I understand…All right, call me if you find anything."

Crowley stepped into the library as Kevin laid the phone down, letting out an exhausted sigh as he ran his fingers over his tried eyes.

"Everything all right?" he asked, moving to the bookshelf and replacing the book he held in his hand, perusing the shelves for another one. Kevin glared but the look lacked the heat that was usually there. He sat back and threw down his pen, leaning against the back of his chair.

"The angels are grouping into factions. Killing each other, trying to gain power and take back heaven, and it looks like Dean and Cas have been taken."

"And Sam is freaking out and wants you to find out if there's anything on that tablet that can help him? And let me guess – he has unrealistic expectations as to how long that's going to take?"

Kevin nodded.

Crowley took a seat across from the prophet.

"Wish I could help you there, but unless you've got any more dead languages for me to translate, I really can't."

Kevin regarded the former demon.

"Thank you." he said carefully.

Crowley raised his eyebrows. "For what?"

"For helping us with the Elamite. And I'm sorry that I didn't believe you."

Crowley paused and then nodded.

"You had good reason to be distrustful. I don't blame you, but thank you."

Kevin nodded.

Single footsteps on the stairs sounded, and Kevin and Crowley stared at each other. Cas and Dean had only been missing a little while and Sam was still in Wyoming.

So who was in the bunker?

Crowley stood, holding a finger to his lips as he moved as quietly as he could to one of the library's alcoves, retrieving one of the swords that sat on display and moving towards the entrance to the library, Kevin hovering behind him.

A man stepped off the staircase and moved forward.

"Step aside." he said, his demeanour calm.

"Not on your life." Crowley threw back, brandishing the weapon and pushing Kevin behind him, backing them up against one of the pillars, shielding the prophet. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"I have no quarrel with you." the stranger replied, stepping forward once more. "My business is with the boy."

"Yeah?" Crowley shot back, "Well you want him, you'll have to go through me. Now, I ask you again. Who the hell are you?"

The stranger seemed to consider Crowley's statement.

"I am Ezekiel." He said.

Crowley smirked.

"Nice try, but you're not. I've met Ezekiel. He's much more boring than you."

The man sighed.

"Very well. My name is Gadreel."

…

The thug slammed another fist into Dean's face, and Dean groaned as he felt a tooth come loose. He spat out a mouthful of the metallic blood that pooled in his mouth as Cas yelled from his chained position above him.

"Stop! I've told you everything! Just stop!"

They were in some kind of warehouse, dank and damp. They had been there for hours now, longer, depending on how long they had been out for, and the sounds of screams and whips could be heard echoing through the stone and metal walls. It reminded Dean uncomfortably of Hell.

Malachi stepped forwards, a smile gracing his face.

"This is a bonus, Castiel. We were tracking Muriel, cowardly holdout that she is," he glanced over at the beaten and bloody angel who was tied to a metal post along with Dean, "and wonder of wonders, she led us to you and your little pet."

"Hey!" Dean bristled at the insult

"Not knowingly." Muriel answered, her voice catching as she fought against the pain.

Malachi smirked. "I stand corrected. Not knowingly. Stupidly."

Cas sagged, his face littered with blood and bruises, hands and feet chained.

"I've explained in detail. I don't know how Metatron's spell worked. Therefore, I can't assist in reversing it. I was an unwitting accomplice."

"Ohh. A dupe. The great Castiel. Valued and trusted Castiel." Malachi walked over to a tray of implements that were all clearly meant as torture devices, "Top-of-the-Christmas-tree Castiel. No more than a dupe."

Cas leaned his head back against the metal wall he was chained against, tired and pained and fully knowing that reasoning with the psychotic angel was no use.

"Dupe or mastermind, you were inside the circle. You know where Metatron's weakness lies."

"No, I don't." he said emphatically.

Malachi sighed and turned to the thug. "Theo."

The scarred angel moved over as Malachi stepped out of the way.

"No." Cas pleaded as he came closer.

"Get the hell away from him!" Dean yelled from his position on the floor, his own abused body aching as he fought against the bonds, desperate to get free as Theo grabbed Cas by the hair and pushed his head back, dragging the sharp point of an angel blade down Castiel's chest as Cas cried out in agony.

Malachi stepped forwards once more. "You'd suffer, even die for your beliefs. I get it. But is Metatron, whose poll numbers have totally tanked," Theo guffawed stupidly at Malachi's attempt at a joke, "...worth your life? More importantly, is Metatron worth her life?" he glanced down at Muriel.

"No. No," Cas begged, "She's innocent. You leave her alone."

Malachi didn't take his eyes off her as he let out a soft laugh.

"Hmm. I have no intention of touching her."

He nodded to Theo who nodded back and stepped towards the angel. Muriel began to pant in fear.

"Virtue is its own punishment." Malachi preached as Theo moved closer and closer.

"Get away from her, you dick!" Dean shouted, kicking his foot out and catching Theo on the leg. Theo kicked back, stamping down hard on his ankle until a crack echoed through the room and Dean let out a yell of pain.

"Please, no!" Cas shouted as the thug turned back to the angel, grabbing her by the hair and driving the silver blade into her stomach. "NOOOOOOOO!"

She died with a cry and a blast of pure angelic light.

"Angels butchering angels." Castiel panted once Muriel had fallen still. "Is this what we've become?"

"Just following your example, Castiel." Malachi answered back. "How many did you kill in Heaven? How many in the Fall?"

Cas' brow furrowed

"Oh, you didn't know? A host of angels died when they fell – Azrael, Sophia, Ezekiel, 'died' doesn't even describe it. Devastation. Wings shredded, unspeakable agony at your hands. So, I think you would want to provide any information you have, considering..."

"It wasn't your fault." came a soft reply. Cas looked over to see Dean, lying on the ground beside Muriel's body, face beaten and ankle soaked in blood. He looked up at Cas through swollen eyes. "It wasn't your fault."

Malachi glanced between the two.

"Perhaps you require more incentive?" he said and glanced over at Theo who nodded once more.

Terror rose in Castiel as the thug moved over to Dean and grabbed him by the hair, pulling him up, ignoring Dean's cries of pain.

"No." he begged, "No. No! NO! NO! NO!"

Theo drove the blade in high, through the ribcage, puncturing the lung and leaving Dean gasping and finally drowning as his lungs filled with blood. He glanced up, green eyes, shining with pain, meeting Castiel's as he fought to speak.

"C-Cas…" he coughed, crimson blood staining his lips and he sucked in ragged, laboured breaths.

Cas was struggling against his chains, screaming himself hoarse as he watched the man he loved choke and sputter and finally fall still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummmm...sorry?


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the last update. I know it was mean to leave it on such an awful cliffhanger.
> 
> Unfortunately Dean's an idiot and things are about to get worse.

_  
"I am Ezekiel." he said._

_Crowley smirked._

_"Nice try, but you're not. I've met Ezekiel. He's much more boring than you."_

_The man sighed._

_"Very well. My name is Gadreel."  
_

Crowley raised an interested eyebrow.

"Well, well, well. The original chump. Look who's been let out of his cage."

Gadreel bristled.

"It was not my fault—"

"No, of course not." Crowley interrupted with false sympathy. "After all, it's not like you wanted to let Lucifer into the garden."

Gadreel moved forward and brandished his blade, panting with barely contained fury.

"You know nothing! I will prove myself! I will clear my name!"

"By killing innocents?" Crowley shot back. "Fantastic plan! One wonders why God chose you to be the keeper of his most precious creations in the first place."

Gadreel's jaw clenched as he pressed the tip of the blade to the former demon's throat.

"I do what I must, I—"

Anything else he might have said was cut off as he disappeared in a rush of blinding light. When it dimmed, Crowley turned to see Kevin with his bloody hand pressed to a hastily drawn angel-banishing sigil on the column behind him.

"Quick thinking, but he won't be gone for long. Come on!"

He grabbed the prophet and ran, rounding up Linda and sequestering them in the dungeon. Grabbing cans of spray-paint from the storeroom, he proceeded to cover every available wall space with angel warding sigils.

"Wait!" Kevin shouted. "The tablets, I forgot the tablets!"

He made to leave but Crowley caught him as Linda cried out for him not to go.

"No!" Kevin shouted, railing against the man. "Let me go! I need to protect them! I am the prophet!"

"Kevin! That angel was here for you! He could be back at any moment!"

"I need to get them!"

"THEY ARE NOT WORTH YOUR LIFE!" Crowley shouted.

Kevin ceased fighting and collapsed, exhausted on the ground. His elbows rested on his bended knees, his hands hiding his face as they settled in for a long wait.

…

Castiel gasped as his voice cut out, throat raw, hot tears dripping down his face as he watched the light die in Dean's vibrant green eyes and his body fall still.

"Well?" Malachi asked, calm in the face of Castiel's grief.

The tortured man said nothing and Malachi nodded.

"All right." Malachi said evenly. "I leave you in the hands of an artist." he turned and glanced at Theo. "I don't care what's left."

Theo stared at him. "Don't ask for mercy." he said softly. "There is none."

He moved to shut the door and Cas turned to look at Dean's lifeless, bloodstained body. This was his fault, his doing. He should not have prayed. He should not have put Dean in danger. Theo moved back into his line of sight, brandishing a drill.

"I'll give you one last chance for this to end."

Castiel leaned back, closing his eyes.

"Give me a quick death." he said almost inaudibly, preparing himself for whatever was to come.

"… I need you to speak to Metatron." Theo whispered. "Everyone knows you have influence."

Castiel opened his eyes in confusion.

"He'll listen to you." Theo continued. "Ask him to raise me to Heaven. You can do this, Castiel. I'll be a soldier for Metatron, do anything he wants."

Castiel stared.

"You – you serve Malachi."

"I thought he was the answer," he explained, "but he's crazy."

"You're... noticing this now?" he asked, he glanced over at Muriel and…Dean, anger rising as he realized Theo was looking out for no one but himself. "You were more than willing to do his dirty work." The last words were spat out with venom.

"I did what I had to." Theo countered

"When you were sure he would defeat Bartholomew."

"But no one will survive this war."

"So, you prefer to sit it out in Heaven." he said, venom lacing his voice.

"I can talk to him about restoring your Grace." Theo bargained.

Grace.

An idea occurred to Castiel and he glanced over at Dean, whose green eyes were still open, blank and unseeing.

He turned back to Theo. "Well, it's, um, it's true. Metatron and I do have a working relationship." he said carefully. It wouldn't take much to deceive Theo, but his voice was shaking nonetheless – he was the only chance Dean had now and the more time that passed…

Theo grinned. "I knew it!"

"You're clever, Theo." Castiel complemented.

"You're allies." Theo answered back.

"And he could use a skilled soldier like yourself." he sighed and shook his head. "Oh, but I don't know."

"I-I'm a team player, Castiel." Theo assured enthusiastically.

Cas took a moment to consider, to 'sell it', as Dean would say. Finally he nodded.

"All right. Well?" He gestured to his wrists and Theo unlocked them.

"I'll – I'll need a moment to make contact." he said, rubbing his abused wrists while Theo unchained his ankles and stood back. "And you have something that I'll need."

Theo nodded. "Anything."

With reflexes that spoke of his previous life as a warrior of heaven, he seized the angel blade from the metal tray, cutting a quick slice across Theo's throat and pushing him back hard against the wall, the pure light of the angel's grace beginning to seep out from the wound. Castiel opened his mouth, drinking it in and letting it fill him up with power and strength as he swallowed it down.

He stumbled back, the stolen Grace merging with him, healing his injuries as it filled every inch of him, fusing with him, before pouring out in a blinding explosion of light. It dimmed and his eyes flashed blue and then Castiel, once more filled with the familiar thrum of divine power, looked up at the coward who had killed Dean and Muriel to protect his own hide, the coward who was gasping and bleeding against the wall. Castiel felt a righteous anger well up inside him, and without a moment's hesitation, he reached forward, clamped a hand to his forehead, and burned the life from him.

Theo's empty body fell in a boneless heap to the ground but Castiel paid him no heed.

"Dean." he breathed as he crouched down in front of the still form of the hunter. He could feel power flowing through his veins, power he had not felt in months and he raised a hand to Dean's face, caressing his cheek and closing his eyes as he delved into the body, knitting flesh back together and pulling the hunter's soul back from the veil.

Dean came awake with a gasp and Castiel sagged in relief at the sound of Dean breathing again.

"Oh, thank heaven, Dean." he murmured as he pressed a fierce, impassioned kiss to his lover's lips, pressing their foreheads together as Cas fought to control his breathing and Dean struggled to process what was going on.

"What the hell just happened?" Dean asked as Cas pulled away and made short work of freeing him from his bonds.

"You died, Dean." Cas explained softly, smoothing a hand over his cheek.

"Again?" he asked. Cas frowned, not enjoying the attempt at humour. Dean sighed and glanced around. "So how am I alive?"

"I revived you."

Dean frowned at Theo's burned out body, and caught Castiel's eye.

"Cas, what did you do?"

Castiel glanced back at the dead vessel before turning back to Dean.

"What I had to." At Dean's frown he elaborated. "I took his Grace."

Dean nodded. "Good. Asshole didn't deserve it."

He took a good look at Castiel, whose own wounds were gone as well.

"So does this mean you're an angel again?"

Castiel nodded.

"Yes. But we must go. Malachi is bound to come back sooner or later, and there are other angels here who deserve to be freed."

They stood and Castiel sent a sad glance at Muriel's body before moving to the door.

"Stay behind me, Dean." he ordered as they made their way out into the corridor, and, despite the dire situation, Dean couldn't help the thrill of excitement that coursed through him at the commanding tone in Castiel's deep voice.

…

Sam was at the end of his rope. Both Dean and Cas' phones had been left behind in the motel room, and, when he'd come back with dinner to find the door knocked off its hinges, his brother and the former angel were nowhere to be found. The motel manager had raged at him when he'd found Sam packing up their stuff, threatening to sue for damages before Sam had told him to charge everything to the card on file and left without another word. Kevin had stopped picking up a few hours back and the sun was now beginning to rise and Sam had no information, no leads, and no idea what had happened to Dean and Cas. He was beginning to wonder whether or not he should head back to the bunker when his phone rang from an unknown number.

"Hello?" he answered, hoping it would be some good news. He was not disappointed when his brother's voice sounded down the line.

"Sam?"

"Dean!" Sam shouted, his tone filled with relief. "Thank god! Where are you? What happened?"

"Cas' praying plan backfired. Got snatched by the dude leading one of the factions. Dick called Malachi. We were tortured."

"Shit, Dean are you all right?"

"Yeah, we're fine. Cas stole one of the angel's mojo so he's all powered up again."

"Wait, what? Cas is an angel again?"

"Yeah. Listen, where are you?"

…

Sam drove to their location, giving up the driver's seat at a glare from Dean and shotgun at another glare from his brother, slipping into the back while Dean and Cas got into the front.

"So, back to the bunker?" Dean asked. "Regroup, see what we can get on these guys and maybe check in with Kevin. Has he found anything?" he asked Sam.

Sam shook his head.

"I'm worried. He stopped answering a while back."

"Have you tried Crowley or Linda? Maybe he just fell asleep."

Sam shook his head.

"No, no one's answering."

Dean cursed under his breath and pulled onto the highway, hoping all would be well when they got back home.

…

The bunker was quiet and eerie when the three men walked in.

"Hello?" Dean called as they made their way into the main room from the garage, "Kevin? Mrs. Tran? Crowley?"

"Dean." Cas said softly, as they rounded the corner into the library and found it empty.

"What?" Dean asked.

Castiel pointed to the nearest column where an angel-banishing sigil was drying, red blood fading to brown as it flaked off the stone.

"Shit!" Dean cursed and turned, making for the dungeon, knowing that that was the safest place in the bunker, and was where Crowley was most likely to hole up.

The three burst in and narrowly missed being hacked to bits by the former demon, who was brandishing one of the swords from the library.

"Whoa!" Dean yelled, hands held up. The sword-wielding man let out a relieved breath and dropped the weapon.

"What the hell happened?" Dean asked.

"An angel." Kevin said. "He called himself Gadreel."

"What did he want?" Castiel asked from his position in the doorway, unable to enter the angel-proofed room.

"Me." The prophet answered.

Castiel's fists clenched as he worked to contain his rage.

"Anything else?"

"Were the tablets still there? In the library?"

The angel shook his head.

Kevin deflated and sank back against the wall.

"I should have grabbed them. I'm supposed to protect them."

Linda moved over and crouched down to comfort her son.

"You're alive, and that's what matters." she said. She turned her gaze up to Crowley. "Thank you for protecting us. Again."

Crowley's face coloured and he shrugged. "It was nothing."

"So Metatron's got the angel tablet." Dean said.

"Wait, Metatron?" Crowley asked.

"That's who Gadreel is working for." Castiel explained. "Now that he has it…who knows how powerful he might become."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"The angel tablet has power. If Metatron can harness that power…who knows what he may be able to do."

Dean rubbed his forehead.

"Perfect." he muttered. "Okay, we know that there are at least two factions warring with each other, lead by…"

"Malachi and Bartholomew." Castiel supplied.

"Right," Dean nodded, "and now Metatron's gunning for power." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Where the hell do we start?"

"We should ward the bunker against angels, and you should get some sleep, Dean." Castiel suggested.

"But Cas, won't that hurt you?" Sam asked, his voice concerned.

Castiel nodded.

"It will reduce my power, but I have been human for the past few months. I believe I will be able to survive."

"Wait, you're an angel now?" Kevin asked.

Dean sighed.

"It's been a long day, a lot of which was spent being tortured."

"We were kidnapped by Malachi. He…killed Dean." Castiel's voice caught in his throat. "I did what I had to do."

"What did you do?" Crowley asked.

Castiel glanced at him.

"I stole another angel's grace."

Linda raised her eyebrows, "You can do that?"

Castiel shrugged.

"It was inelegant and barbaric. But," he squared his jaw, eyes intense, "he had it coming."

Dean sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Okay, you're right." he said, patting Cas on the shoulder. "We should get some sleep. Regroup later when we're all rested up."

Everyone trickled out of the dungeon, Crowley and Sam escorting Kevin and his mother to their rooms to angel-proof them.

Dean and Cas hung back.

"So," Dean said, "I guess being all powered up again means you don't have to sleep, huh?"

Cas looked back at Dean.

"I will lie with you." he said softly. "Once I have finished warding the bunker." He reached a hand up, caressing the other man's cheek. "I nearly lost you today. I know it's silly, you being a hunter and me an angel, but the last few months have been relatively safe, and I…I know how fragile human life is now." He looked into Dean's eyes and said softly, "And today, when you died…"

His voice cut off in a sob and Dean gathered him in his arms.

"It's all right." he murmured, rubbing soft circles into the distressed angel's back. "I'm here, babe. I'm not going anywhere."

…

Later, once the sigils were up and covering every inch of the bunker in various colours of spray paint, Cas held Dean's sleeping form tightly in his arms. Exhausted from the long night of torture as well as the warding that was blocking his power, he drifted in and out of consciousness, until finally, he closed his eyes and entered Dean's dream.

He was in a field that reached as far as the eye could see, a golden plain stretching to the horizon. The Impala was parked nearby, the sun glinting off gleaming fenders. He moved forward silently and looked down at the hunter whose arm was thrown across his eyes to block out the glare from the sun. He raised it and squinted at Cas.

"Hey." he said softly.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel answered.

Dean frowned.

"Is this a dream?" he asked.

Cas nodded.

"Come 'ere." he ordered, gesturing the angel forward.

Cas obeyed, lowering himself down beside his partner. Idly, he noticed he was dressed in Jimmy Novak's old suit and trench coat, complete with the backwards tie. Dean's arm wrapped around him, holding him tight.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

Cas glanced up at him.

"Yes." he answered.

"Good." Dean smiled and pressed a kiss to Cas' forehead, threading his fingers through his thick hair.

They lay in the sun and the warmth and the silence until morning.

…

Dean stepped into their room, feeling fresh from the rest and the shower he'd just had, to see Castiel standing in front of the mirror, struggling with the tie he was attempting to fasten around his neck. He glanced at Dean's reflection, pulled off the offensive piece of cloth, and turned. Dean looked him up and down and smirked at the angel who had donned his suit and the trench coat that Dean had bought for him all those months ago.

"Look at you, all suited up and back in the game." he teased.

Cas smiled and fingered the coat.

"It seemed appropriate." he explained, holding out the tie.

Dean walked over, taking it and considering it.

"You know? I think I like it without the tie." he suggested, undoing the top button and letting the collar fall open.

"Yes?" Cas asked.

Dean nodded.

"Yeah." he smiled. "That way I can do this." He leaned over and pressed his lips to the partially exposed collarbone, feeling Castiel's hand come up to tangle in his hair as he kissed his way up the angel's neck, stopping at his mouth and planting a sweet kiss on his soft lips.

He pulled back and smirked. "See what I mean?"

Cas smiled and nodded. "I definitely see the benefit now." He looked down at the tie he still held in his hand. "And now I won't have to learn to tie this infernal thing." He commented, throwing it over his shoulder to land on the bed as he leaned forwards to capture Dean's lips once more.

…

"You want to do what?"

The meeting to decide how they ought to proceed had come to a standstill. Despite now knowing whom they were up against, they still had not been able to come up with how they should deal with it. Sam and Linda were being infuriatingly rational, Crowley continued to veto every one of Dean's (admittedly increasingly insane) ideas, and Castiel's latest suggestion that he leave the bunker so that he could find and stop Metatron was the final straw for Dean.

"He is the key to fixing everything that is wrong. I'm going to find him."

"And you need to leave to do that?" Dean asked, his tone edging on vitriolic.

Sam, Kevin, Crowley and Linda all shared a look, uncomfortable with where the discussion was going.

"Well, I can't stay here, Dean." Cas said, obviously not catching on to Dean's warning tone. "For one thing, the warding is blocking most of my power, and I don't even know where Metatron is. Also, my wings are damaged beyond repair which means I can't fly."

Dean nodded.

"Right, so you just want to go out there and go searching for angels after everything that just happened? After the torture? You remember the torture, right?"

Cas rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Dean, I remember the torture. But I am an angel now."

"Well that didn't help Muriel much, did it?"

Cas fell silent and stared at Dean, his expression cold and dangerous.

"Umm, we're just gonna go get some food and…give you guys some privacy." Sam said as he and the others stood and filed out of the library.

"Dean, I have to go." Cas said softly, once they were alone, anger burning beneath the surface of his calm words. "I have to do something."

"Then I'll go with you."

"No." He shook his head. "It's too dangerous."

Dean gaped at him.

"Are fucking kidding me?!" he asked, voice raised, "Really?"

"Dean—"

"No, you know what? Fine! You wanna leave?! Fucking leave! See if I care!"

"Dean, please!" Cas protested, but the hunter continued.

"Never mind that you promised you wouldn't leave, but hey! If that's what you want, fine! I don't even want you here! I don't even _need_ you here!"

Dean was shaking with fury and tears glistened in Castiel's eyes as he raged at him.

"Dean." he said softly, moving forward and putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Fuck off, Cas!" Dean yelled, throwing it off angrily and stalking away, back turned to the angel. "Just go!"

Castiel's face shifted from pain to angry resolve.

"Do you really want me to leave?" he asked, tone edging on fury.

"Yeah!" Dean shot back, turning again and glaring at the angel. "That's what I want! I want you to fuck off outta here! No one wants you here, Cas!"

"Fine!" he shouted back, calling on his millennia of experience as an angel to steel his expression and hide the pain. "If that's what you want, fine!"

"Great!" Dean shouted back as Cas turned to go. "Great! Just go! Fly off like you always do! Oh wait, I forgot, you can't fly! Well, have fun moving around like the rest of us pathetic mud monkeys! That's what you dicks call us, right?"

Cas paused and then turned, moving back, his face set in a mask of barely controlled rage. He stalked forward, grabbed Dean by the scruff of his neck, and pushed him back into a column, using his renewed strength to pin him there as he crowded in and spoke in a dangerously calm voice

"If you want me to go, I will go. And gladly, if it means I will not have to listen to you speak to me this way again. But don't you dare forget why I have done all that I have done, or for whom I did it."

Dean scoffed.

"Me, right? You're talking about me? I was the one who convinced you to rebel, I was the one who got you kicked out of heaven, I was the one who broke the first seal and started this whole mess. Well lucky you. Guess you're rid of me. You can go back and fix what I broke and go live the life or existence or whatever the fuck you call what you do up there in Cloud fucking Cuckoo Land that you were meant to have. Go on! Leave! See if I care!"

Cas growled and flung the hunter to the side, watching as he hit the floor and skidded a few feet.

"It is obvious that you don't." he spat, his voice trembling with either rage or grief, he really couldn't tell anymore. "Therefore I will go. But once I walk out that door, rest assured I will _not_ be coming back." And with that he turned and strode to the staircase, ascending it without looking back. "And don't bother praying!" he added. "No one will be listening!"

Dean raised himself up from the floor enough to collapse into a chair, head in his hands, silence pressing in in the wake of their heated argument.

The door slammed shut and Dean jolted. It seemed to have a finite quality to it as it echoed in the still air of the bunker.

He was an idiot.

Yes, he was angry. Furious. The fear of Castiel leaving had been haunting him since this whole relationship started. But why did he have to yell like that? And at Cas! As his rage began to dissipate, a horrible, nauseous, creeping sensation began to make its way up his spine and into his belly. What had he done? He eyed the staircase. Should he go after him? Apologize? Beg for forgiveness?

Dean sighed and swiped angrily at a tear. He wouldn't cry! And he wouldn't go after him or call or pray! Cas was better off without him anyway. After all, he was an angel again. He could go and be with his family. He could reopen heaven and go home and be happy, far away from Dean and the train wreck that was his attempt at a functional, healthy relationship. Hell, now that Cas was an angel again, any sort of relationship between them would probably be forbidden. And besides, who in their right mind would want to be in a relationship with him anyway? It was a miracle they had made it this long what with the panic attacks he still had despite the progress he'd made and all the fucking sobbing he'd been doing.

It was for the best. Cas would be much happier without him, and Dean would keep telling himself that until he no longer felt like his still-beating heart had just been ripped out of his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! Please don't kill me. Everything will work out eventually. We'll get through this together I promise.
> 
> In the meantime, I have begun a new story (it's mostly written so it won't interfere with this one). It's a Destiel AU and I will be updating it every Tuesday and it's called Let me See You Smile if you felt like checking it out :)
> 
> I love you all, please don't hate me.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual thanks to the awesome Rainbow Fruit Loop for betaing

_It was for the best. Cas would be much happier without him, and Dean would keep telling himself that until he no longer felt like his still-beating heart had just been ripped out of his chest._

He spotted his phone sitting on the table and picked it up, tapping the on button and staring at the photo that came up. It was of the two of them from a few weeks back, hanging out and watching Game of Thrones. He had looked down to find Cas looking up at him, blue eyes wide as he took in Dean's face and Dean had stared back, hypnotized, unable to look away, until he heard the artificial shutter of a digital camera and looked over to see Sam with his phone up, snapping pictures. Dean had lunged for him and they had rolled around for a while, wrestling playfully for the small device. Eventually Dean had grabbed Cas, and the three of them had ended up tumbling over the side of the bed, landing in a tangled mess of limbs and out of breath laughter.

Dean stared at it now, stared at the hateful reminder of his former happiness. It was as though the loving faces in that picture were mocking him and he felt his anger rise again.

He threw the phone hard, watching as it ricocheted off one of the columns and fell to pieces on the floor. And then he was flooded with rage and he stood, knocking the chair back and swiping angrily at everything on the table – books, the remnants of his breakfast, the lamp – and sending it all crashing to the floor, throwing a chair too for good measure.

Sam came bounding into the room.

"Dean! Dean!" he yelled, grabbing his brother as he continued to destroy the room.

Dean fought, trying to throw his brother off him but Sam held tight and eventually the anger drained out and all that was left was self-loathing and pity and grief and he collapsed in Sam's arms, bringing them both to their knees.

"Dean? What's wrong? Where's Cas?"

Dean closed his eyes and a single tear trickled down his cheek, which he swiped angrily at.

"He's gone." he said quietly, standing and stalking out of the library, leaving his brother kneeling amongst the remains of Dean's tantrum and wondering how they were going to get through this.

…

Weeks turned into months with no word from Castiel and as the time went on Dean sunk deeper and deeper into a black pit of depression that had him snapping at everyone and casting a pall over the entire bunker.

Sam had tried to talk Dean into calling the angel several times, but all that ended up accomplishing was Dean either yelling and breaking things or stalking off in a silent rage and eventually the younger Winchester gave up; if his brother wanted to be pigheaded and stupid, then that was his prerogative. Still, there were times where he found himself wanting to dial Castiel's number or pray to the angel but he always caught himself, knowing that Dean needed to be open and receptive to the idea of making up with his boyfriend before he came face to face with the angel, or he could very well end up burning that bridge once and for all.

So Sam decided to wait and let Dean work through this in his own time, even if his own time moved at a snail's pace.

In the meantime they started hunting again. They tracked down Garth only to discover that the former hunter was now happily married and living as a werewolf, investigated a fat sucking Peruvian monster running a health spa, and ran into Ed and Harry, the Ghostfacers who seemed to be going through a break up of their own.

And as the time passed Dean spoke less and less, his shoulders slumping a little more each day, dark circles, a testament to how little he had been sleeping, growing more and more prominent along with his cheekbones as his appetite took a nose dive and he started substituting every other meal with a bottle of Jack.

Things came to a head one night in mid November when the bunker door opened with a bang and Dean came stumbling in, interrupting Sam's late night research and nearly breaking his neck when he lost his balance and tumbled down the last few stairs.

Sam was only partially up because of research, mostly it was because a few hours prior Dean had gruffly announced he was 'going out' and Sam was worried that this exact scenario would play out.

" _Jesus_ , Dean!" he exclaimed, abandoning his computer and running over to where Dean was trying to right himself.

"Wa' th' f'k j'ss 'appn'd."

Dean was barely coherent when Sam reached him and hauled him upright, wrinkling his nose at the haze of alcohol that surrounded his wasted brother.

"Jesus, Dean." he said again as Dean failed to find footing and slumped in Sam's arms. Sam dragged him to the nearest chair and sat him down, staring as Dean wrestled with something in an inner pocket of his jacket before finally pulling out a half empty mickey of whiskey, which Sam snatched away from him before he could even attempt get the cap off.

It took a few seconds of Dean staring at his empty hand for his soused brain to register what had happened.

"Th' fu'k, Shammy." Dean complained, his eyes barely open, "G've 't ba'k."

"No, Dean." Sam answered, trying desperately to control his anger in the face of his brother's state. "You've probably already given yourself alcohol poisoning as it is, you're not having anymore."

Dean held up an accusatory finger, which wavered wildly in front of Sam.

"Yer not th' boss o' meee." he slurred. His hand dropped and he overbalanced at the sudden shift. Sam leaned forward quickly, reaching out a hand to prevent Dean from careening face first into the floor.

He sat back and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Sh't, S'mmy." Dean murmured and Sam opened his eyes to see Dean looking dejected and despondent and wrecked as he slumped in his chair. "'M sorry. 'M so sorry."

Tears began pouring out of his brother's eyes at an alarming rate and Sam leant forward to pat Dean's shoulder comfortingly only to end up with an armful of Dean as his big brother launched himself forward and latched onto him, burying his face in Sam's shoulder as everything that he had been suppressing in the past few months finally rushed out of him in a torrent of tears and drunken sobs.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Sam soothed, rubbing his back as Dean wept into his shirt.

"Miss 'im Sammy." he sobbed, voice muffled where his face was still pressed into Sam's shoulder. "I miss 'im so mush."

"Then call him, Dean, you know he'll be here in a second if you call."

Dean shook his head.

"No. Don' d'serve 'im. Pois'n."

"What? What about poison?"

Dean sat back, his eyes red from the tears and heavy-lidded from the booze. Sam could tell he wouldn't be conscious for very much longer but he was talking for the first time in months and Sam wanted to keep him going for as long as he could.

"'M pois'n." he slurred, placing a hand on Sam's other shoulder to keep himself upright. "Don' need me. Mush 'appier withou' me."

"You think Cas is better off without you?" Sam asked, amazement at his brother's stupidity and pity at his complete lack of self worth warring inside him.

Dean nodded and he began to pitch sideways off the chair. Sam grabbed him and hauled him upright.

"Dean, Cas was deliriously happy being here with you. There is no way he's better off without you. No more than you're better off without him.

"He's n' ang'l n'w. C'n be with 'is own kind."

"Dean, even when Cas was an angel before he still spent most of his time with us. With you."

Dean's eyes began to droop and Sam knew it was pointless trying to reason with him in this state.

"All right, come here, big brother." he hoisted Dean up and pulled his arm up and over his shoulder, bending down and grabbing Dean behind the knees and lifting him up into a fireman's carry.

"Shammy, ev'rythin's upsi' d'wn." Dean commented as Sam made for the room Dean had taken to sleeping in, having avoided his own room since Cas had left.

"That's cause I'm carrying you, Dean."

"Mmmm." he groaned. "Yer a good br'ther, Shammy. T'ke care o' me."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah Dean, I'll take care of you."

"Thas my job though. Gotta t'ke care o' you. Gotta m'ke sure yer safe."

Sam reached the room and stepped inside, lowering Dean down onto the bed.

"You don't have to do that anymore, bro." Sam said softly, crouching down so he could look at Dean. "You can take care of yourself now."

Dean blinked at him and shook his head.

"N't v'ry good at it. L'st time…l'st time nearly kill'd m'slef."

Cold fear washed through Sam as the implications of what Dean had just said registered.

"What are you talking about, Dean?"

Dean listed from side to side on the bed as he struggled to focus his eyes on Sam.

"Tried t'…tried t' comm–comm…" he frowned, as he struggled with the word, "k'll m'self." He shook his head. "Nah good."

Sam stared at his brother in horror.

"Dean, when—"

"Think 'm gonna puke, Sammy." Dean interrupted, and indeed he was swallowing like he was having trouble keeping something down.

Sam glanced around and his eye caught on a small metal garbage can, which he managed to grab and shove in front of him before Dean retched. Sam took a seat beside his brother, rubbing his back as the booze Dean had been putting back all night made its reappearance. Dean had likely been drinking on an empty stomach since Sam had noticed a significant drop in his brother's eating habits lately. This was getting ridiculous, this forced separation, and Sam rubbed tiredly at his eyes as Dean continued to vomit. That was it, tomorrow he was going to sit his brother's stubborn ass down and force him to call Castiel. None of this 'I'm not worthy' bullshit.

Dean finished heaving and Sam took the bucket as Dean slumped sideways. He set it down on the desk and pulled off his unconscious brother's boots and coat before pulling the covers out from under him and tucking him in. He took the can to the bathroom to empty it and brought it back, setting it beside the bed before settling down in the desk chair to watch over his brother and ruminate on how he was going to get Dean to talk about everything he had revealed tonight.

…

Sam woke with a crick in his neck and rubbed his eyes as he glanced over at his brother. Dean was still fast asleep in the same position he'd been in when he had passed out and had luckily not thrown up again. He checked his watch – it was late morning so he stood and made his way to the kitchen. He was just finishing off some pancakes when Dean stumbled in, still wearing the clothes from last night, and fell into a chair at the table.

"Morning, sleeping beauty." Sam teased as he brought over a plate of bacon and pancakes and set it in front of his brother who caught one whiff of the greasy meat and moaned, his face taking on a slightly green tinge. "You're not gonna puke are you?" Sam asked, grabbing a cup of coffee and setting it in front of Dean.

Dean closed his eyes and swallowed before shaking his head, which was apparently a bad idea because he moaned again and dropped his head into his hands.

"Here." Sam said, producing a few white pills and pushing them towards his brother along with the mug of coffee.

"Thanks." Dean said, his voice rough and he dry-swallowed the pills and sipped at the coffee.

They ate in silence, Sam digging into the food and Dean picking at it as he drained three cups of the black liquid until he was sitting up straighter and looking marginally better. Sam cleared his throat and wiped his mouth, setting the napkin down and fixing Dean with a meaningful look.

Dean stared back.

"What?" he asked.

"We need to talk about last night." Sam said.

Dean shrugged his shoulders in a façade of disinterest.

"What about last night?"

"About you coming home too drunk to stand."

"So? I went out, had a few too many. Don't see what the big deal is."

Sam fought the urge to strangle his brother.

"Dean, that wasn't a 'few too many'. I know how high your tolerance is. That was you drinking like there was no tomorrow."

Dean scrubbed at his eyes, still fighting his hangover despite the coffee and painkillers.

"Sam, there's nothing to discuss." Dean argued.

"Like hell there is!" Sam countered, "What the hell did you mean last night when you talked about trying to kill yourself?"

Dean's head snapped up in a way that Sam was sure had hurt, but he just stared at Sam, fear clouding his green eyes.

"I said that?" he asked softly, as though afraid of the answer.

Sam nodded and Dean buried his face in his hands, cursing under his breath.

"Shit. You weren't supposed to hear that."

"Yeah, well I did. Now, what did you mean by it?"

"Sam—"

"No, Dean." Sam cut him off before he could come up with some lame ass reason for not telling Sam, like 'it's for your own good' or 'you don't have no know' or the classic 'it doesn't matter Sammy, just drop it'.

"I'm not going to let this go."

Dean sighed and rested his head in one hand, staring down into his empty cup of coffee. He supposed he might as well tell the story since all his other secrets were out in the open now.

"Fine." he said, sitting back in his chair, "It was while you were at Stanford and Dad had started hunting on his own. I got injured during a hunt and had to go to the hospital."

"What? Why?" Sam asked, wondering what had been so bad that Dean would willingly go to the hospital.

"Haunted barn." Dean said by way of explanation, "Got thrown into a bunch of farming equipment and cut myself bad enough to need stitches."

"You went to the hospital for _stitches_?"

Sam's voice was derisive and Dean bristled.

"I can't exactly sew up my own back, Sammy." Dean countered and Sam was hit suddenly by a jolt of realization that during his time at Stanford, Dean could easily have been killed and Sam would have been none the wiser. "Anyway," Dean continued, "they gave me a prescription for painkillers, good ones too, and when I got back to the motel I saw the bottle of whiskey I had and I thought…I could do it. Just swallow it all down and…fade away." He let out a humourless laugh. "I mean, who would miss me right?"

Sam looked aghast.

"Dean, how could you think that?"

Dean raised an eyebrow.

"What? Dad goes off hunting on his own the minute you leave for Stanford and you go and change your number and don't call for years? What the hell was I supposed to think?" His voice had risen as he spoke, and it cracked embarrassingly. His face coloured at the unwarranted emotional outburst and he fought to keep his face blank.

Sam withered under Dean's impassive gaze.

"You're right." he said in a small voice, deflating at the realization. "Dean, I…I should have kept in touch."

"So why didn't you?" Dean asked; his gaze accusatory, hurt shining in his vivid green eyes.

Sam hung his head.

"I just, I thought you wouldn't want to keep in touch with your nerdy, annoying little brother." he said softly. "I though you'd be happy without me around to take care of. Without me to worry about, you could finally go live your life."

"Sam, you were my life. Since I war four years old, looking after you was what I did. And then you just…left. And then Dad left and it was like the only thing I was good for was looking after you and once you were gone…"

He trailed off into silence.

"I'm sorry, Dean." Sam said, his voice genuine. "I shouldn't have just assumed you wouldn't want to keep in touch. I was just…I was free. Finally. And I was _so angry_ with Dad and you were always defending him. I guess it all just got tangled up." He looked up at his brother. "I'm sorry."

Dean sighed and nodded.

"So, did you?"

"Did I what?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Did you go through with it?"

Dean sighed.

"Yeah."

Sam's face fell in devastation.

"What happened?"

Dean shrugged. "I took the lot and went to sleep."

"And?"

He sighed. "I hadn't planned on staying another day in the motel so I hadn't paid for it. Luckily the manager was a tight-fisted bastard and when he came over to collect the money, he found me unconscious in a pool of my own vomit." He smirked. "Kinda like a rockstar, I guess. Anyway, he called an ambulance."

"Jesus, Dean, thank god for him."

Dean shrugged.

"Well, he did charge me extra for throwing up on the carpet, but yeah."

"Then what?" Sam asked in a small voice.

Dean cleared his throat. "I stayed in the hospital for a week under suicide watch before I skipped out."

"Then what did you do? Did you ever try it again?"

Dean drew in a deep breath.

"I wanted to. Or a part of me did. I think that was the scariest part 'cause most of me wanted to live but…" he shook his head.

"A part of you just thought everything would be better if you weren't there?"

Dean looked up at Sam's words, fear coiling deep and cold in his belly.

"Have you ever…?"

Sam shook his head, "Not really. I mean, not to the point where I tried. But…I guess, last year, doing the trials, it felt like I was trying to make up for everything. And at the end, when you begged me to stop…all I could think was that if I had to die so that I could fix what I'd done; not being able to stop the gates of hell from opening, setting Lucifer free, watching helpless as he beat you senseless using my body…I figured if the price to pay for all that was my life…I would gladly give it. And maybe something good could come out of it."

Dean looked at Sam, pain shining through his eyes, and he nodded.

"So, what did you do about it?"

Dean looked up at his brother.

"Hmm? Oh, I got in the car, drove to Stanford, found out where you lived, and broke into your apartment in the middle of the night."

Sam stared at him in speechless shock.

" _That's_ why you came? What about the whole 'Dad's on a hunting trip and he hasn't been home in a few days' thing?"

Dean shrugged.

"Well, I couldn't very well say 'I'm suicidal and you're the only thing tethering me to life', could I?"

"Yeah, Dean. You could have."

Sam looked sorrowfully at his brother and Dean averted his eyes, not wanting the pity, and so was unprepared for Sam launching himself out of his chair and tackling Dean in a hug.

"All right, little brother." Dean said, patting him on the back awkwardly as Sam refused to let go.

"I'm sorry, Dean." Sam said, continuing to squeeze his big brother tightly. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I never did try again. Unless you count the whole goin' to hell thing."

Sam sat back down and Dean shifted in his seat.

"I'm glad you came." Sam said softly.

"Hmm?" Dean asked.

"To Stanford. I know I wasn't very happy to see you. But I'm glad you did."

"Even though Jess ended up dying?" Dean asked.

Sam gave a sad smile at the memory of his first love.

"That would have happened anyway. In fact, if you hadn't've been there I would have died too."

Dean nodded.

"No, I meant that…I'm glad we got the chance to be brothers again, you know?"

Dean looked at Sam long and hard before nodding and averting his eyes, chalking the lump growing in his throat to the fact that he was hungover and not because he was genuinely touched by what Sam had said.

"Yeah, I know." He nodded and looked back up at Sam. "Me too, man."

Sam smiled and nodded.

"Okay." he said, standing and gathering the plates. "You want another?" he asked pointing to Dean's empty mug.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, thanks."

Sam nodded and filled it up with what was left in the carafe.

"Oh, and here." he added, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Call Castiel and talk to him. No!" He stopped Dean as he went to open his mouth to argue. "No arguments. I'm tired of this. It's childish and stupid. You're an idiot if you think Cas could possibly be better off without you."

"Sam—"

"Dean, listen to me." he sat down again and stared long and hard at his brother. "Cas is an angel who has been alive practically since the dawn of time and yet he looks at you like you are the most amazing, beautiful, interesting thing he's ever seen. He _always_ comes when _you_ call, not me or Kevin or Bobby or anyone else. _You_. If that's not love, I don't know what is. Now call your boyfriend or I will call him for you."

And with that he stood, placed the dishes in the sink and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Dean holding the phone and contemplating his brother's words.

He sighed and scrubbed his hand down his face, rubbing at his tired eyes.

The past three months had been hard. Missing Cas had been like a physical ache, a constant knot in the pit of his stomach that stole away his appetite, his sleep, everything. He had gone to pick up the phone he had bought to replace the one he had broken in that first fit of anger – the first of many – so many times. Even got halfway through dialling before that little voice in his head that sounded a bit like himself and a bit like his father started whispering that familiar mantra: _Why the fuck would anyone want you, you worthless piece of shit? What good are you to anyone? Your mother would be ashamed of you. I'm glad she's fucking dead so she doesn't have to see her precious little boy grown up into a disgusting, pathetic little faggot._

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his hands against his ears as though he could block it all out that way.

He stared down at the phone. God, he missed Cas.

He picked up the phone and dialled.

_"We're sorry, the number you have dialled is not in service."_

He hit the end button, cutting off the automated voice and dropped it to the table. He rested his head in his hands, closing his eyes. He had always had hope that at least, if he wanted to, he could always reach the angel.

There was nothing for it. So he clasped his hands, bowed his head, and prayed.

…

_Three Months Ago_

Castiel stormed out of the bunker, anger coursing through him, controlling him. He was an angel again. He could feel Theo's stolen grace burning in him, filling him with comfortably familiar power. But it was doing nothing at the moment to quell the rage that fuelled his exit. He strode out onto the street and stopped, staring out at the road that stretched before him.

He turned to look back.

Should he go back? He knew Dean likely didn't mean what he had said. But it had hurt _so much_ to hear the vitriolic words spew from the mouth of the man he loved.

He turned back to the open road, closing his eyes against the pain that had taken over once the anger had died down. He couldn't go back, couldn't face the possibility of Dean yelling at him like that again, the hatred in his eyes and words had practically radiated from the other man.

He wiped away a tear and stared at it in betrayal. He was an angel again. Angels weren't meant to cry.

He pulled out his phone, turning it on and staring down at the photo of Dean that he had taken one day when he had been napping in the library. In it he looked calm, young, his mouth turned up in a small smile. Cas, in a confusing moment of sentimentality had snapped a quick photo and saved it as his background. Now, the sight of him, the reminder, just added to the pain that surged within him and he hefted the phone, throwing it and watching it sail through the air and into the wilderness on the side of the road. He continued staring where the phone had fallen long after it had disappeared from sight. He knew exactly where it had landed, he could feel it, like he could feel everything. Every atom in existence. He closed his eyes and stretched his awareness back, back through the door out of which he had stormed a few minutes ago…

He stopped and opened his eyes. He would not go back. Dean had told him to leave. Told him in angry, hurtful, rage fuelled words to go and to stay gone. So that was what he would do. He turned and started down the road, wiping the tears away.

Angels didn't cry.

…

Cas strode out of Bartholomew's compound. He had not wanted to kill the angel, no matter how power hungry he had become. He was tired of killing, tired of seeing the faces of every last angel and human he had murdered burnt into his memory. When he had been human he had dreamt about them; nightmares that had him waking up in a cold sweat, body shaking until Dean's strong, warm arms wrapped around him, holding him close. It had been enough to banish the visions, to ease the guilt that surged in him.

But Dean was not here now. Dean did not care. And though he no longer had to sleep, he still saw those faces, flashes of memories that touched on the part of him that was still very much human.

His grace was fading. He could feel it ebbing away bit by bit every time he expended any sort of power and he knew it wouldn't be long before it faded out completely and took him with it. It was one thing to extract an angel's grace the way Metatron had Castiel and Castiel had Theo, taking it all at once. So long as the initial wound was healed, the angel could live, his consciousness taking over the vessel he inhabited. But the way Cas had taken his, forcing another angel's grace into his fallen vessel, if he did not remove it, it would burn out and destroy him.

He returned to the motel room and shut the door, locking it with an idle gesture. He lowered himself to the bed, dropping his head into his hands, and shut out the voices of his brothers. At first it had been a comfort, opening himself up once again to the familiar hum in the back of his mind. But there was so much confusion and strife and anguish; voices crying out in fear and anger. So he shut it out and sat in lonely silence.

It was a few weeks later that a familiar voice echoed in his head, causing him to break suddenly, skidding to the side of the empty highway he had been travelling down.

_Dear Castiel._

Dean's voice was rough but soft and Cas closed his eyes against the onslaught of emotion that welled up inside him at the sound.

_God I hope you can hear this. Your number is out of service and I just…I just want to say…_

His voice cut out and Cas waited with bated breath for him to continue.

_I'm so fucking sorry. I'm so sorry, Cas. I shouldn't have said any of it. I should have gone after you and begged you to stay and taken back everything I said. I take it all back, Cas. You didn't deserve that and I am so sorry._

There was another pause and Cas felt righteous indignation rise up. It had been three months and he was only just saying this?

_I guess I figured you'd be better off without me._

Cas shut his eyes and rested his forehead in his hand, propping his elbow in the windowsill of the car he had 'borrowed'. Of course Dean would have rationalized it that way.

_You know, you're an angel now. You can go be with your own kind and fix heaven and forget about me and just go be happy._

"That's bullshit, Dean." Cas said out loud, despite the fact that he knew Dean couldn't hear him.

_Sammy says that's bull. And I want to believe him, I do, it's just…_

Cas rubbed his forehead.

_But I miss you Cas. I miss you so goddamned much and I can't eat or sleep._

He sighed.

_I love you Castiel. And I know I don't deserve forgiveness for what I said but if you wanted to, I want you to come home._

Cas stared out at the road that lay before him. The road that held so much promise and potential but which had ended up leading him to nothing but loneliness and defeat as he continued warring against his brothers and sisters in a fight that he felt obligated to participate in, but which was slowly tearing him apart on the inside.

He did _not_ want to be a leader and yet angels were pledging allegiance to him. Putting their faith in him just as so many had before. And look how that had worked out. He closed his eyes and thought of the slew of empty motel rooms he had occupied; the long hours on the road. As an angel, he was built for solitude, the endless chatter of his brethren in his mind enough to temper any loneliness he may feel. But he had experienced the joy and comfort of lying in Dean's arms, waking up next to him, sharing countless little moments together on the couches in the library or the front seat of the Impala or seated side by side in a diner booth, hands clasped and feet intertwined as they shared a meal with Sam. He _missed_ that, _ached_ for that.

And he missed Dean.

The things Dean had said to him hurt deeply; cut him to the quick and Castiel was not at all sure if he could go through that again. But he also knew Dean and he knew how deeply Dean's insecurities ran, and he knew too that he should have turned back that day on the road. He should have turned back and talked to Dean instead of giving in to the spite that had filled him; the petty desire to punish Dean for what he had said and make him feel the way he had made Castiel feel.

Cas stared out at the road that lay before him and let the tears that he had been holding at bay for three months come spilling forth.

…

Dean continued to pray every hour on the hour apologizing over and over, hoping the words would ease the guilt that had been building inside him since he had screamed at the angel to leave all those months ago.

Eventually, he found himself standing outside the door to his— _their_ —room. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the door. He hadn't been inside in over eight weeks, not since he'd grabbed a few changes of clothes and moved to an empty room as far away as he could get in the bunker. It reminded him too much of Cas; the clothes, the pictures they'd hung, the smell. Now he found himself cracking the door, letting it swing silently open and his gaze roam over the familiar sight.

He moved to the desk, trailing his fingers over it and taking in the photographs that had joined the one of his mother. Cas had become increasingly fascinated with the practice and idea of using pictures to capture memories, and he picked up one of Cas that he had taken; a candid photo taken while Cas had been mid conversation with Sam, his eyes bright and face animated as he expressed his viewpoint. Dean couldn't for the life of him remember what the conversation had been about, but he loved the passion in the angel's eyes.

He moved to the closet, opening the doors and staring in at the row of clothes that Cas had accrued and left in his hasty exit from the bunker. He pulled out a shirt and brought it to his face, inhaling the musky scent that still lingered. He closed his eyes against the onslaught of memory and emotion that threatened to overwhelm him – memories of time spent lounging around and invading each other's personal space. He closed his eyes and basked in the memories that assaulted him.

He turned to the bed, stepping forwards and moving hypnotically until his shins hit it and he sank down onto the mattress – _memory foam, it remembers me_ – bringing his head to rest on what had been Cas' pillow. He buried his face in it and inhaled, his mind inundated with memories of sweet moments in the early hours of the morning, waking up from a nightmare to find strong arms wrapped around him, holding him close. At those times it would take a moment for him to remember that the arms belonged to Castiel and that it was totally normal that they were there and his chest would fill with an emotion that he wanted to call love if it weren't for the fact that the idea of being in love with the man scared the shit out of him.

Because he had loved his mother and she had died. And he had loved his brother and he had left. And he had loved and trusted his father and he had betrayed him in every way imaginable. And each time it had torn away another little piece of his heart until he began to fear that nothing at all would be left if he let it happen again.

And then Ellen and Jo and Bobby and Lisa and Ben and so many others had left too, and Dean tried everything he could to numb the pain of loss.

But somehow Castiel had still managed to burrow inside him and Dean, to his utmost surprise, had let him. And then sent him away at the first sign of potential heartbreak and here he was, three months later, praying to the angel to come back while sobbing into the pillow that still smelt like him.

"Please Cas, Please."

It hurt so much, the tightness in his chest and the emptiness in his heart and the nausea in his stomach (although that may have had something to do with the hangover).

"Please come back. I love you."

"I love you too Dean."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LAST CLIFFHANGER I SWEAR!
> 
> Also, I'm trying to flesh out some chapters between now and the end so if anyone has any Destiel scenes that they'd like to see, drop me a line or a review and let me know and I'll see if I can incorporate any of them. I'm thinking of doing christmas and maybe Dean's birthday.
> 
> Also, If you haven't already heard, I have a new story called Let Me See You Smile. It's Destiel AU and you can find it on my profile page.
> 
> Let me know what you thought!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is, a good measure of angst and shameless fluff and sexytimes.
> 
> I hope this makes up for the hell I've put you all through the last few chapters.
> 
> And as always thanks to the lovely Rainbow Fruit Loop for Betaing

Castiel raced down the street, pushing the car as fast as he dared while still being mindful of others who may be on the road. He had entered Kansas a while back and the closer he got to Lebanon, the clearer Dean's prayers seemed to become.

He had been going all day, apologizing again and again for the things he had said, insisting he hadn't meant them and pleading for the angel to return. And Cas desperately wanted to fulfill that request.

It had been rather cathartic to let go of the self-righteous anger he had been clinging to these past few months, anger which, now that it had faded away, had been masking the real pain that the words had caused. It had hurt immensely to open himself up and accept the pain, experience it and heal from it, and Castiel now had a new insight into why humans masked their emotions the way they did. If this is what it felt like to heal from emotional wounds…it was understandable now how Dean had got to the position he was in. He was hiding so much pain.

And that realization and acceptance were fuelling his impatient desire to return to his apologetic lover. He wanted Dean in his arms again. He wanted to hold him and sooth him and protect him the way he had before and the way he had promised to do for the rest of his life. Guilt gnawed at him, another unpleasant sensation that he had been familiar with but never to this extent. He had promised not to leave, had promised to stay and show Dean how much he was loved. And yet, at the first sign of trouble, he had cut and run. And worse, he had stayed away.

His hands shook and his body jittered with anticipation as the car continued making its way to the bunker. He hadn't been particularly eager to get anyplace quickly in the time he had been alone, and before that he had at least had Dean to share the long, arduous car rides with. But now, with impatience building to nearly insatiable levels within him, this mode of transportation seemed so sluggish compared to the old, nearly instantaneous speeds he had been able to reach when his wings still functioned. He had always appreciated the fact that it took no time at all to get places, but as an angel, time had carried a very different meaning. Now that he had experienced humanity, mortality, he yearned for the days when he could just 'pop in', as Dean would say.

Dean.

He really, really, wanted to see Dean again.

Something in the bowels of the car pinged and rattled and the speed gradually decreased until the vehicle sputtered and lurched and finally came to a stop.

Cas groaned and brought his forehead down lightly on the steering wheel. This was not the first car he had 'borrowed' that had mysteriously stopped working. He knew he ought to know why, he had spent enough time with Dean in the Impala, but he had never really paid much attention to the vehicle apart from the fact that it smelled like Dean and felt like home.

He let out a frustrated sigh and exited the car, closing the door and glancing around. There was nothing for it. He would have to walk.

He started down the road. Despite the fact that he knew every step was one step closer to Dean, he could not help feeling like he was attempting to drain the Pacific Ocean one teaspoon at a time.

_Hey, Cas, it's me again._

Dean's voice echoed in his head once more, tones soft and sad. Cas could picture him sitting alone in the bunker, head bowed, shoulders slumped, exhausted from once again trying to carry all of his anguish by himself.

Cas picked up speed.

_I don't know if you're getting any of this, but I'm sorry. Again. I didn't mean any of it. Not one word. Of course I want you here. Of course I need you. It's just, sometimes people say the opposite of what they mean because…because well, what they mean to say is too hard. If that makes any sense. I suppose it all seems stupid and unnecessary to you but it's a part of being human. Anyway, I just want to say sorry, you know. For everything._

He felt a jolt as Dean sent out yet another prayer, his voice sounding so small and lost and sad. He picked up the pace, moving to a light jog before breaking into a full tilt run, his need to be with Dean fuelling his way. As he moved he felt his wings unfurl, skeletal frames useless but still yearning to participate in his flight. He flapped them experimentally and perhaps it was just his imagination but he felt a burst of speed at the movement of the monstrous limbs. So he ran, his broken wings, while they could no longer support him in flight, lending what they could to get him closer and closer to Dean.

At last the bunker door came in sight and he slowed, coming to a halt in front of it. He thought back to those first days spent as a human as he stood now in front of the subterranean opening. How lost he had felt, how alone. And how wonderful Dean had been, how supportive in the early days of his humanity. Again that gnaw of guilt took hold, and he cursed himself for leaving. He reached out his hand and extended his grace into the mechanism of the lock, turning it and allowing the door to swing open. He moved to step inside…

And hit a solid, invisible wall that thrummed with a power that would not let him pass. His heart plummeted. The angel warding was still up. He could not get inside.

Raising his fist, he pounded on the door jam, yelling, hoping someone would be near enough to the entrance that they would hear and let him in.

Finally, the sound of footsteps on metal stairs sounded and Cas ceased his incessant knocking.

Crowley emerged from the shadows, eyebrows raised as he sauntered forward slowly, hands in pockets, taking all the time in the world.

"So, you've come back. I do hope it's to make up with your emotionally stunted boyfriend because honestly, it's been hell here the last few months. Almost called you myself a couple of times."

"How is he?" Cas asked, suddenly nervous now that he was here and faced with the reality that he was going to see Dean.

Crowley shrugged.

"He's been moping, testy, quick to anger, quick to yell, quick to throw things. Reminds me of Gavin when he was pubescent. All those hormones." He shuddered and though he tried to hide it, a shadow passed over the former demon's face as he mentioned his long dead son.

"Will you let me in?" Cas pleaded, the impatience returning.

Crowley seemed to show some consideration before shrugging.

"Sure, why not. I suppose you two being sickeningly sweet together is better than you two being angsty and morose apart. Just let me interrupt a few sigils and we'll have you back with your BF in no time."

He disappeared back down the stairs and Cas stood, fighting the desire to throw himself against the barrier he could barely distinguish sitting like a fine mesh net across the open entryway.

Time passed and he began to wonder if maybe Crowley had been lying to him, deceiving him. If, perhaps, he had never intended to allow Castiel in. Perhaps he could go into town. Find a phone. Call Dean.

Then he felt a release of power like lightening across his skin and the shimmering net wavered and stuttered. Another burst of kinetic energy and the block faded even more. One more and he was through the door, breaking down the last of the warding before it had fallen. He could feel the remaining sigils sapping his energy, blocking his connection to the rest of the host. He did not care. Scrambling down the stairs, he made it to the main room to see Crowley with a can of black spray paint and several crossed out sigils.

"Go." he said, gesturing to the hallway that lead to the bedrooms. "I'll restore these."

Cas looked at the man whose face still resembled that of whichever poor man had been subjected to Crowley's initial possession, and not the hellish creature that he had come to know in his past dealings with the former King of Hell. He nodded.

"Thank you, Crowley. You are a good man."

Crowley blinked at him, surprise registering in his normally stoic face.

"I don't know about good. But I'm working on it.''

Castiel nodded again and turned, striding down the hallway, allowing Dean's voice in his mind to guide the way.

_Please, Cas, please._

He turned the corner. Dean was curled up on their bed, one of Cas' old shirts clutched in his hands. His face bore a week's worth of scruff and the room felt…empty. As though it had not been occupied since he had left.

"Please come back." Dean whispered and the words echoed in his head as he heard them spoken out loud. "I love you."

Any lingering anger he may have felt towards the hunter died at the words and the truth they carried with them – a truth which Cas could see and hear and feel with every fibre of his being. He opened his mouth to answer.

"I love you too, Dean."

…

The voice was horse and gruff and so utterly familiar that it took Dean a moment to register what it signified. As it was, the sound of it shocked him so much he ceased crying and, with his heart pumping and blood rushing in his ears, he sat up, his eyes skimming the bed and desk and floor until they came to rest on a pair of booted feet. His eyes traveled upward, taking in the dark slacks and tan coat and white shirt that still lacked a tie until he was staring up at Castiel standing in the doorway to their room, his manner calm and collected as it always was.

"Hello, Dean." he said, and Dean let out a breathy laugh at the familiar greeting.

"You came."

His voice was rough from the previous night and the day spent praying.

Castiel's mouth quirked in a smile.

"I always come when you call."

Dean nodded and lowered his head, shame at his actions and words coursing through him. A part of him had honestly not believed the angel would come.

"I'm sorry, Cas." he whispered for what felt like the thousandth time that day. "I'm so sor—"

A hand threading its fingers through his hair, stopping his words as it brushed down across his unshaven cheeks and came to rest under his chin, lifting it. Dean raised his eyes to Castiel's who was now standing over him.

"It's okay, Dean." he said softly, kneeling so they were face to face. He brushed away an errant tear that had escaped the green, red-rimmed eyes. "It's okay."

Dean shook his head.

"No, it's not. I should never have said those things. I didn't mean them, Cas, none of them. I was just angry and scared and when you walked out…" His voice cut out and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to control his breathing before he continued. "When you walked out, I guess a part of me figured you'd be better off without me and my mess."

"Dean-" Cas began, but Dean shook his head.

"No, Cas, don't deny it. I am a mess. I'm angry and self-destructive and I've done a lot of bad things that don't deserve to be forgiven."

"Dean, of course you deserve to be forgiven." Cas said softly, but Dean continued to disagree.

"No."

"Dean, listen to me." Cas said, taking the hunter's face in both hands and forcing their gazes to meet. "There is nothing you have done that is unforgivable. Nothing."

Dean closed his eyes.

"I can still hear them." he said softly.

Cas frowned.

"Hear what?"

"The screams." His eyes were glistening when they opened and met Cas'. "The screams of the souls I tortured."

Cas sighed.

"That was not your fault."

"I chose it." he whispered. "I chose to get off that rack, I chose to start torturing."

"You didn't choose that, Dean. Alastair did."

"NO, I CHOSE IT!"

Cas did not flinch at Dean's outburst, just stayed kneeling where he was while Dean tried to compose himself.

"He offered me the deal and I…I just I couldn't say no anymore." His lip trembled. "I started it. All of it. That first seal. All I had to do was wait another ten years and you would have been there to pull me out, but I couldn't…I…"

"And Alastair knew that." Cas interrupted, resting his hand on Dean's shaking ones. "He knew who you were when you showed up on his rack. And he knew we would be coming for you. Your treatment at his hands was barbaric. Even for a demon."

Dean frowned.

"But my dad still held out longer."

Castiel frowned.

"Your father?"

"He was down there much longer then I was, and he never broke. All the things he did to me, said to me when he was alive and he  _still_  proved himself to be more of a righteous man than I was." He hung his head, eyes falling shut, "So what does that make me? If my abuser, my r-rapist held out where I didn't…then maybe I deserved it after all."

Cas shook his head in mounting horror.

"Dean, no."

"'Cause I can still hear it, Cas. That voice in the back of my head telling me I deserved it." He opened his eyes but sill avoided Cas' gaze. "When my dad…when he r—raped me. I couldn't believe it. He just pushed in and it hurt  _so much_  and I couldn't believe that it was actually happening. That it was happening to me. And that it was my dad." A tear escaped and he wiped it away as he hung his head and shook it. "And afterward I kept wondering why. Why it happened. Why he'd done it. And I kept hearing him, over and over, yelling how I was worthless and a disappointment and how I had brought it on myself." He was sobbing now and Cas brushed a thumb across his cheek to clear away some of the tears. "And I know that you and Sam and everyone keep telling me that it was wrong and that I didn't deserve it. But sometimes I just feel like I'm drowning. And that voice gets louder and louder until it's all I can hear. And I can't find one part of me that believes that it wasn't my fault. And then I dream about every soul I tortured in hell. Every person I cut and burned and flayed and I don't know who the real monster is anymore."

Cas closed his eyes and sighed.

"Dean," his voice was soft and sad as he caught and held Dean's gaze, "your father was never, could never have been the righteous man. And Alistair knew that. Even if he had broken and shed blood in hell, it would not have broken the first seal."

Dean frowned.

"But…but Alastair said…Dad was Michael's vessel."

"He may have been, but  _you_  were the righteous man. That was why your parents were matched. Why Azazel poisoned your brother. Why we were dispatched when  _you_  went to hell, and not your father. Alastair knew exactly what he had when you appeared on his rack. And he did everything in his power to turn you."

Cas reached a hand up to cup Dean's sallow cheek.

"The fact that you held out as long as you did is not a testament to your weakness, but your strength. Your father lasted longer than you because his torture was ten times less what yours was. Besides. It is the ones who truly belong in hell who hold out the longest. Because they are the last to admit it."

Dean was breathing heavily now, looking down at Castiel with tears streaming down his face.

"It wasn't my fault?" Dean asked softly.

Cas shook his head.

"No, and I'm sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry."

Dean frowned.

"For what?" he asked, genuine confusion in his words.

Cas sighed.

"For not reaching you sooner. And for sending you in to torture Alastair and do our dirty work, I can't believe now that I was ever that cold and unfeeling." He stroked a thumb over the scruff on Dean's cheeks and shook his head, "And I'm sorry for leaving. I promised you that I would spend the rest of my life proving to you that you are worthy of love. And I broke that promise. I know how little you think of yourself, and I also know that it is not your fault. I didn't just come back because you begged and apologized. I came because I realized I made a mistake when I left. I came back because I choose to be with you. Because I want to. Because I love you. And because you are worth it. I am sorry because I should not have walked out. I should not have taken your words to heart. Yes, they hurt terribly, but deep down I always knew they were untrue."

"But I shouldn't have said them in the first place."

Castiel looked up at Dean and brought his other hand up join the first cupping Dean's face.

"We all do stupid things when we're angry or scared. It is very…human." Dean chuckled humourlessly. Cas pinned him with a glance, "Dean, what your father did to you was horrendous and in no way your fault. And what Alastair did to you was also horrendous and in no way your fault. And I promise I will keep telling you that until you believe it yourself. And I also promise that I will not abandon you. Not again."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut to stave off the tears he could feel burning in his eyes at Castiel's heartfelt words.

"I can't promise I won't yell at you again." he whispered. "But I can promise that I won't ever mean any of it."

Cas smiled and said softly, "That's good enough for me."

Dean tilted his head forward until it touched Cas'.

"I missed you." he whispered, breathing in the scent that he had been trying to capture earlier.

"I missed you too." came the soft, gravely reply.

Cas straightened his position, raising his face up until his lips brushed Dean's. He smiled at the spark that shot through him as it always did when they kissed, and he allowed himself to be swept away by the wave of pleasure that flowed through him, opening himself up to the hunter and pushing in, hands tangling in hair as Dean's arms snaked around him, fisting the material of his overcoat and clutching possessively at him.

"Dean?"

The voice buzzed in the back of his subconscious, but he ignored it, focused as he was on the fact that Castiel was actually here, in his arms, kissing him.

"Dean!"

He moaned into the angel's mouth, darting his tongue in and basking in the heat that surged through him.

"Dea—ohhhhh."

Dean and Cas pulled apart and glanced around at Sam who had stopped in the middle of the doorway.

All three stared at each other for a moment, Sam fighting to keep the smile off his face.

"Hello, Sam." Castiel greeted from where he was kneeling between Dean's legs, lips swollen and hair wild.

"Hey, Cas." Sam answered back. "Nice to see you again."

Castiel nodded.

"Yes, it's been too long."

Sam cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly.

"Uhh, I was just going to make some food. Wondered if you wanted anything."

Dean shook his head.

"I'm all right. Think we're just going to hang out here."

Sam smirked.

"Right."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Shut up."

"Whatever." The younger Winchester shot back. "Well, have fun." he teased, turning to go.

"Hey Sammy."

Sam stopped and turned back.

"Thanks." Dean said softly. "For kicking my ass earlier. I needed it."

Sam smiled and nodded.

"Anytime." he answered. "And Cas," the angel looked up at Sam, "welcome home."

Castiel blinked, and a slow smile spread across his face.

"Thank you, Sam. It's good to be back."

Sam left, shutting the door behind him, and Cas looked back to find Dean with his head bowed, fidgeting with his fingernails. He reached his hands out and covered Dean's, ceasing the anxious movement. Dean's gaze came up, nervous and tentative, as though waiting for Cas to snap out of whatever spell he'd been put under and leave in disgust. Cas shook his head mentally at the fear he saw in the hunter's eyes, knowing Dean, and knowing exactly what was going though his mind.

So Cas smiled and leaned forwards, capturing Dean's lips once more with his, pouring all the love he could muster into the gesture. Dean needed it. Dean deserved it. And Cas was damn well going to give it to him.

Dean moaned, pulling the angel up and then pushing him back against the pillows, attacking Cas roughly with his lips, tugging at his hair and pushing his tongue in, rutting against Cas as he squirmed, trying to find some friction against his ever-growing desire.

Cas pushed him back gently.

"Dean, Dean."

Dean pulled away, his eyes fearful once again as he panted over the angel.

"What? What's wrong? What did I do?"

"It's okay." Cas assured hastily, stroking along Dean's cheek as their breathing subsided. "You can slow down. I'm not going anywhere."

Dean sighed, the uncertainty in his eyes that was usually so well hidden making him look much younger and more vulnerable than usual.

"Sorry." he breathed. "I just missed you so much."

Cas smiled. "I know. I missed you too."

He brushed his fingers through Dean's close-cropped hair and pulled him lightly back down, kissing him sweet and soft and chaste.

"I love you." he murmured against his lips.

Dean brushed his nose across Cas'.

"I love you too." he whispered.

They spent a long time just kissing, hands roaming and feet intertwined, items of clothing coming off slowly as they got in the way. Hands brushed over naked skin, petting and scraping, as their desire grew stronger and more insistent, more impatient. Pretty soon Dean was prepped and Cas was hovering above him, looking down with a mix of lust and adoration in his eyes, while Dean looked back with trust and love in his own.

Cas pushed in, filling Dean, and the hunter hummed appreciatively as Cas hit his sweet spot, sending jolts of sensation through him. Something deep inside him stirred, and he gasped as it bloomed and grew, infusing him with a strange combination of lightness and power that filled him to the brim.

He looked up at the angel hovering above him. Cas' face was contorted in pleasure and he seemed to be glowing as though lit from the inside; as though the sun had filled him up and its brilliance was shining right out from his very pores. He watched as the glow built, growing brighter and brighter until it shone in a dazzling corona around his head, and through the brightness Dean could make out two massive shapes growing more and more focused and solid with every thrust.

They were wings.

They spread out, filling the space with their span, and Dean wanted to reach out, to run his hands along the few feathers that still clung to the skeletal frame, but another wave of pleasure washed through him and he clutched at the bed sheets instead as Cas moved above and in him.

The light was growing in intensity as the angel's thrusts quickened, speeding up to match the gasping of his breaths and the pounding of his heart. He looked down at Dean, his blue eyes bluer, his dark hair wilder.

_Dean_

He could hear Cas' voice in his head as the pleasure mounted and Dean was forced to close his eyes against the glow.

_Dean_

The sound echoed in his mind, filled it up until all he knew was light and comfort and ecstasy and that voice. It was still Jimmy's voice but underscored with something…else. Something ancient and vast. A voice that could cause earthquakes and bring a mountain to its knees. A voice that could shatter glass.

He had heard that voice before.

In the depths of hell, calling to him, pleading with him to run. And again in the abandoned gas station when he was still disoriented from having to dig his way out of a plywood box five feet under. And again in a suspiciously empty motel room with an unfortunately mirrored ceiling. He had heard that voice and had not remembered.

But he remembered now.

He remembered the anger and pain and sadistic delight he had found in torturing others. Inflicting on them all the pain that he had been subject to. He remembered the burst of pure light that had exploded and then subsided to a bearable degree but had still been too bright to see anything clearly. He remembered cowering from the light and goodness that radiated off the celestial being as it spoke to him, offering him words of comfort that he knew he would never,  _could_  never deserve.

_Dean Winchester, come with me._

And he remembered the searing pain as his shoulder was grabbed and he was dragged protesting out of the place that had been his home, his prison, for longer than he could remember.

He had not remembered, had not recognized the angel when he had appeared again in the form of Jimmy Novak, but the connection, the 'profound bond' was still there, long after the handprint had faded from his shoulder, it was there. And now he could see that glow again. Castiel. Not Cas.

Dean came with a moan, born on the wave of his own pleasure and the connection he now felt with the angel. Cas threw his head back, bare chest peppered with beads of sweat that glistened in his internal light, his wings taught and shivering as he reached his own peak.

And then it was over and Cas slumped forwards onto Dean's heaving chest as he fought to control his breathing.

"Shit, Cas." Dean gasped.

He felt the angel's laugh rumble through his chest and he smiled at the sound and feel of it.

He took a deep, sated breath in and cast his gaze to the two massive wings that he could still see protruding from the angel's back. He still couldn't quite believe they were there. Dean knew Cas had wings of course, he'd seen the evidence that first night in the barn in Cas' display of his heavenly origin and again every time he popped in and out of his life without a word. But seeing them here, now, so real and vivid and close enough to touch…

Dean felt a yawn approach and his eyelids began to grow heavy. It had been a long day, a long few months, and after what they had just done…well, this conversation could wait until morning when he was well rested.

Cas shifted above him, sliding to the side and pulling him back against his chest, arms wrapping around him, holding him tight and secure. Dean closed his eyes, mouth turning up in a smile as Cas pressed a soft kiss to the nape of his neck.

"Sleep, Dean." the angel whispered. "I'll watch over you."

As he drifted off, he felt something else, a heavy weight that was warm and comforting, settle over him. Something with feathers that tickled as they brushed across his exposed skin. That held and cradled and protected him. He brought his hand up to where Cas' was resting over his ribcage and threaded their fingers together, squeezing for good measure as he sank into the first restful sleep he'd had in three months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you forgive me? Let me know in comments ;)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always kudos to Rainbow Fruit Loop for Betaing!
> 
> Here's some gratuitous fluff for you guys, hope you enjoy!

Dean woke to something soft tickling his face. He scrunched up his nose, trying to rid himself of the irritant, but it persisted, so he cracked open an eye to find out what it was.

 

As his opened eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, the first thing he noticed was that he was well rested, the second was that there was a warm body pressed up against his back, arms wrapped securely around him, and the third was that the thing that was tickling his face was a feather.

 

He stared at it, trying to wrap his still partially asleep mind around the sight. He raised his head, following the line of sight from the plume down to the wing that was draped over him and splayed out across the bed, a comforting weight that made him feel inexplicably peaceful and safe; the way he had as a child when his mom would tuck him in, laying a soft kiss on his forehead and smiling down at him, calm and serene. He had never felt like that after she died, although he had done everything in his power to try to give Sam the same experience. Lord knows how well he'd succeeded, but he'd given it his best shot.

 

He looked back down at the wing.

 

The feather that had woken him was one of only a few still clinging to the skeletal frame of the wing. From what little he could remember of glimpsing the shadowed impression of Cas' wings that first night in the barn, they had been huge and impressive and dense. Now they were ragged, feathers tattered, soft black down barely covering the white bone that shone through.

 

Dean thought back to the sight of thousands of angels falling from the sky like the meteors they had been explained as, burning as they plummeted towards the ground, cast out of their home, injured and weak and alone.

 

He thought of Cas, newly human, experiencing pain and thirst and hunger for the first time. And Dean hadn't been there to help him. What if Cas hadn't reached them? What if Bartholomew had got his hands on him when he'd been pursuing him? What if he had gotten to Cas in the last few months when he'd been out on his own as Malachi had Muriel? Alone once again because of Dean's stupid mouth?

 

He shivered and the arms that held him tightened. He smiled. Even in sleep Cas was always mindful of Dean and what Dean needed from him. He owed Cas so much; his life, his happiness, his love. And he was determined to give the angel the same. He had damn well earned it.

 

He reached a curious hand out and ran a finger along the feather, feeling its otherworldly softness. The limb twitched and a soft grunt sounded from behind Dean. He turned to see Cas grimace in his sleep, his face scrunching up in a manner that was decidedly cute at Dean's touch. His heart swelled at the sight of the sleeping angel lying once again beside him. It was so right that, for a moment, it felt as though he had woken from a nightmare, as though the last few months had been nothing but a bad dream. All was right with the world.

 

Dean frowned.

 

 

He glanced at the wing that rested across his body.

 

If Cas was an angel again – as the foreign limb most definitely suggested – then why was he sleeping?

 

A cold shock of fear coursed through him. Was he sick? Was he injured? Possibilities surged through his mind, each one more irrational and improbable than the last but it didn't stop Dean from worrying. He'd just gotten his angel back and he was damned if he was going to lose him again.

 

He shook Cas' shoulder gently.

 

"Cas." he whispered softly.

 

The angel moaned and shifted on the bed but didn't wake.

 

"Cas."

 

Blue eyes framed by long, dark lashes blinked open. Focusing in the dim light of the room, they settled on Dean's face and Cas' mouth relaxed into a content smile.

 

"Dean." he breathed, the same relief that the hunter had felt upon waking in the angel's arms evident in his sleep-roughened voice.

 

"Hey." Dean smiled back, before he remembered why he had been trying to wake him up in the first place. "Why were you asleep?" he asked, concern growing in his tones, "Are you all right?"

 

Guilt gnawed at him, the image of a sick and injured Cas alone, thinking Dean hated him, blooming in his mind's eye.

 

Cas smiled, the worry lines that had appeared on his forehead at Dean's distress smoothing out.

 

"I am fine, Dean." he assured the hunter.

 

"But you're an angel again. You don't need to sleep, so why—"

 

"Dean."

 

Castiel's firm, serious voice cut off Dean's frantic ramble. He smiled and cupped his cheeks.

 

"I expended a great deal of my grace yesterday and the warding here is keeping me from re-charging as quickly as I would like. Besides," he added, moving in closer to Dean's embrace, "I missed sleeping with you in my arms." He pressed a soft kiss to Dean's lips.

 

"What did you do yesterday that used up that much grace?" Dean asked once Cas had pulled away.

 

"My car stopped a few miles from here, inexplicably. I ran the rest of the way here."

 

Dean frowned.

 

"You ran? Why?"

 

Cas' smile was sad as he stroked through Dean's hair.

 

"Because I wanted to be here with you. If I could have flown I would have, but…"

 

He trailed off and glanced down at the skeletal wing that lay across the covers.

 

"Shit, Cas." Dean said. "Yeah, I mean, I only saw them as shadows before but now…"

 

He looked down at the broken appendage as well, unsure of what to say. Cas looked up at him.

 

"Dean." he said and Dean glanced up to see a confused expression on Cas' face. "What are you talking about?"

 

"Your wings." Dean explained, gesturing to the limb that was splayed out across the two of them.

 

Cas sat up and Dean shivered from the sudden lack of warmth.

 

"You–you can see them?" Castiel's normally powerful voice held something that Dean had never heard before in his gruff, certain tones. Something akin to self-consciousness.

 

"Yeah."

 

Cas blinked at him.

 

"How?"

 

Dean rose to match Cas' seated position, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he did.

 

"Last night when we were…you know." He gestured vaguely, the innuendo obvious. "You started…glowing."

 

Cas' eyebrows rose.

 

"You could see my halo?"

 

Dean frowned thoughtfully.

 

"Is that what that was? Anyway, then suddenly I could see your wings."

 

Dean stared at them now. They were passive, lying limp across the bed. Cas glanced down at them as well.

 

"They–they aren't very…they used to be much more impressive." His voice came out soft, hesitant.

 

Dean reached a hand out and nudged Cas' chin up until they were eye to eye.

 

"I think they're awesome." he said, and it was the truth. Despite their rather haggard look, the wings were still massive and cool. He couldn't help reaching a hand out and stroking over them. Cas closed his eyes and shuddered as Dean's fingers brushed across the down that was just as soft as it looked. The wing twitched and moved quickly out of the range of Dean's hand.

 

"Oh shit. Sorry, Cas, did I hurt you?"

 

Cas opened his eyes and shook his head, taking a deep breath.

 

"No." he said softly. "It's just…no one's ever touched them before."

 

Dean blinked.

 

"Never? Aren't you like thousands of years old?"

 

"Yes."

 

"And in all that time, not one person has ever touched your wings?"

 

Cas shook his head.

 

"They do not exist on a plane that most humans can perceive and interact with, and angels do not engage in physical contact unless in battle or for more carnal purposes."

 

Dean was left reeling at Castiel's frank description of angel life.

 

"Shit, Cas." was all he could come up with.

 

Cas frowned.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"Just…going that long without any kind of physical contact…" Dean trailed off. On the whole he wouldn't consider himself a touchy feely kind of guy. Sure he liked the odd hug from Sam, and he had fond memories of being held by his mother, and Cas well…Cas was a whole other matter. But to live an entire existence devoid of any kind of touch?

 

Cas seemed to consider Dean's words.

 

"At the time I never questioned it. It was just how things were. But then I fought through hell and found you and you wouldn't come. So I grabbed you. And it felt…different."

 

Dean raised an eyebrow.

 

"Different? Wow, you certainly know what to say to a guy."

 

Cas to his credit looked mildly abashed.

 

"I didn't mean in a bad way. I just meant that I had no basis of comparison. I had no idea what the sensation meant only that I wanted to feel it again and again. So I asked that I be the one to approach you. And every time an opportunity came up to meet with you, I took it. I convinced my superiors that I was the best choice because you were distrustful of angels and I was familiar to you – and that was true – but mostly I just wanted to be near you. So I could continue to experience that sensation I felt whenever I was around you."

 

"What was the sensation?" Dean asked softly, at once both afraid and excited to hear the answer.

 

"I have thought about it at great length." Cas explained. "Trying to determine what the feelings meant; what my vessel and being were trying to tell me. I now believe the feeling to be love."

 

Dean stared into Cas' eyes, eyes that seemed to make up for his general lack of expression by being overly expressive themselves. If anyone else had delivered that line it would have been corny as hell, straight out of the worst examples of cheesy romance novels. But from Cas it was nothing but the truth. Cas who hadn't experienced touch until he'd had to drag Dean kicking and screaming out of hell. Cas who now clung to Dean even in sleep.

 

Dean cleared his throat, suddenly incredibly uncomfortable under the angel's penetrating gaze.

 

"So, how…why can I see them now?"

 

Cas frowned in thought.

 

"I wonder." he murmured before reaching a hand out and grasping Dean's bare shoulder.

 

Dean was immediately inundated with an overwhelming torrent of emotions and sensations and, most of all, power. Cas pulled his hand away and Dean was left gasping in the aftermath, glancing down to where Cas' hand had been to see a fading remnant of his handprint. The same that had been there when he'd first climbed out of hell. He looked up to see Cas staring down at his hand thoughtfully.

 

"What the hell, Cas?"

 

Cas looked up.

 

"I believe our graces connected last night, Dean."

 

Dean's forehead creased in a frown.

 

"What? What grace? I don't have any grace."

 

"Yes you do, Dean."

 

Dean's frown deepened.

 

"No." he said, as though addressing a small child or Sam. "Grace is an angel thing. You have grace. I do not."

 

"But you do." Cas countered, "A miniscule amount, I'll grant you, but it is there. And last night it activated."

 

Dean raised an eyebrow.

 

"Activated? Really? What am I, a nuclear bomb?"

 

"You aren't going to explode, Dean." Cas assured.

 

"So…how the hell do I have grace?"

 

Cas took in a deep breath.

 

"In hell, after I pulled you out, you required…a great deal of healing; physically and spiritually. There was only one way. You struggled at first, but eventually you conceded. I suspect you were just in too much pain."

 

Dean stared at Cas who was looking down, studying the duvet as he spoke.

 

"What the hell are you talking about? Concede to what?"

 

Cas looked up, locking gazes with Dean, his eyes sad.

 

"We merged. Became one. My grace and your soul. It was the only way to reverse the damage."

 

Dean blinked.

 

"Merged? What does that mean?"

 

"It means you needed my help so I did what was necessary. I healed you. And in the process, I left some of my grace behind."

 

"In me?"

 

Cas nodded.

 

"And last night. When we…"

 

"The remnant of my grace in you felt the grace in me and…"

 

"Activated?" Dean supplied.

 

Cas shrugged. "It seems the most apt term for what occurred."

 

"And now I can see your wings and…halo?"

 

"So it would seem."

 

Dean leaned back and stared at the faint glow that still radiated from the angel and the limbs that protruded from his back.

 

"Huh." he vocalized. "Can I…can I touch them?"

 

Cas hesitated, but nodded.

 

Dean reached out and gently brushed over one of the few feathers still clinging to the wing. It was softer than Dean thought possible, and Cas shivered as his fingers trailed down them. He paused.

 

"Are you all right?"

 

Cas took a steadying breath.

 

"Yes, it's just…intense."

 

"If you want me to stop I'll—"

 

"No. It feels good."

 

Dean continued stroking gently and Cas leaned his head forwards to rest on Dean's shoulder, crowding in. Dean moved up the limb, petting his fingers over the soft down that covered the join where the limb met Cas' shoulder blade. As his fingers buried into the feathers, Cas let out a sound that was part moan and part purr, and nuzzled his face into the crook of Dean neck.

 

Dean chuckled.

 

"Like that, do you?" He smiled and Cas nodded, his face still pressed to Dean's shoulder.

 

Dean let out another chuckle and continued to pet the wing joint, each stroke eliciting another string of pleased noises from the angel.

 

He felt something then, in the back of his mind. A sensation, a feeling of warmth and comfort and love that did not belong to him. He petted at Cas' wing and the angel let out another pleased moan. The feeling swelled, pulsing in time with Dean's strokes and the sounds Cas was making.

 

"Cas." Dean asked.

 

"Yes, Dean?" Cas answered with his head still buried in Dean's neck.

 

"Are there any other possible effects from this…grace thing?"

 

Cas sat up and back, frowning.

 

"Like what?"

 

Curiosity flowed through whatever the hell it was and Dean was getting surer and surer by the minute that it was Cas.

 

"I dunno, like…weird, psychic angel stuff?"

 

Castiel's frown deepened and his head tilted in that particular way it tended to when he was trying to figure something out. Then his eyes went wide and locked onto Dean's.

 

Dean, can you hear me?

 

Dean sat back suddenly.

 

"Whoa! What the hell was that?"

 

Cas' face was impassive as always but his eyes were wide with interest.

 

"I would appear we are indeed linked in some mild psychic manner."

 

"And in English that would mean…?"

 

"We can hear and feel each other's thoughts and emotions."

 

Dean was silent for a beat as he tried to process the information.

 

"Woah." was all he could think to say. A ripple of amusement flowed in through the connection and Cas smirked.

 

"Is that really all you have to say?"

 

Dean shrugged.

 

"I don't know what to say. What do you say to something like that?"

 

Cas smiled.

 

"The beauty of it is that you don't have to say anything."

 

He leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to Dean's lips while simultaneously pouring all the love he could muster for the man and forcing it through the link to Dean's mind.

 

If the other feelings had been ripples, this was a tidal wave. It rode in and washed over Dean and it felt as though he was sinking under the strength of the emotion. It was love, pure and simple and he was drowning in it.

 

Dean gasped and broke away, breathing heavily.

 

"What is that?" he asked breathlessly.

 

Cas caressed his cheek.

 

"That is what I feel for you, Dean Winchester."

 

His first instinct was to fight it. It felt wrong, somehow, to accept it and let it in. It was so pure and good and right, and he was so…sullied. But no matter how hard he tried to rail against it, it kept coming; a steady stream of unyielding adoration that was slowly filling him to the brim. He could hear his father yelling at him as he swung his fists drunkenly, uncaring about how much force he was putting into the blows. He saw Alistair's face, smiling smugly as Dean cut into his first victim, revelling silently in his small but vital victory.

 

And still the love kept coming.

 

Dean looked up with tears welling in his eyes. He opened his mouth a few times but shut it again, his brow furrowing and his breathing still heavy.

 

"Shhh." Cas murmured, stroking a hand through Dean's dark blonde hair. "It's okay. It's okay."

 

He shook his head and tried to pull further away but Cas had him in a gentle but firm grip that would not allow him to go any further.

 

He locked eyes with Cas, staring into the angel's depthless gaze and stopped struggling, allowing the feelings to wash over him.

 

He bowed his head, laying it down to rest against Cas' chest as Cas leaned back against the pillows, wrapping his arms and wings around Dean as he shrunk into a foetal position, crowding in close, as though, if he made himself small enough, he could crawl inside Cas. Cas held onto him tight.

 

He was basking now, no longer sinking but floating on the tide of the love that Cas continued to pour through the connection in his mind. He felt himself relaxing into the angel's embrace and he closed his eyes, shutting out everything except the feelings flooding in from Cas.

 

The voices were getting dimmer, silenced by the rush of emotion and he opened himself up to it. Tears were spilling from his eyes but he didn't care.

 

I love you, Dean Winchester.

 

The words echoed in his mind, drowning out the last of the visions of hell and his father. He couldn't even remember who he was really. Only that he was Dean Winchester and he was loved.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Did you like? Reviews are always welcome!
> 
> Also, if you haven't already, be sure to check out my other Destiel fic Let Me See You Smile!


	22. Chapter 22

"Dean? Dean?  _Dean_!"

Dean glanced around to find Sam looking expectantly at him.

"What?"

Sam rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"I know you're excited to have your boyfriend back, but the staring is a bit much."

Dean face coloured; he couldn't get over the sight of Cas standing at the kitchen counter, back to him, wearing sweats and one of Dean's old t-shirts, wings protruding from the fabric as though it wasn't there.  _They exist on a different plane than yours Dean, as far as they are concerned the shirt doesn't exist._  Cas had tried explaining it to him but it had only left Dean insisting that _he_ didn't want the shirt to exist either after which he had proceeded to _take off_ the shirt and the concept had flown pretty quickly from his mind then.

"I can't help it." he explained to his exasperated brother. "I can see his wings."

Sam's eyebrows rose.

"What? Really?!" He perked up. "What do they look like?"

Dean shrugged.

"Wings. Except almost all of the feathers are gone."

Sam frowned.

"From the fall?"

Dean nodded.

"You know, even if I were no longer an Angel of the Lord, I would still be able to hear you." Cas approached the table and set a plate down in front of Dean before taking a seat beside him. "We are in the same room."

"Sorry, Cas." Sam apologized before kicking Dean, who had been staring once again at his partner's wings.

"Ow. Sorry, Cas."

"That's fine." Cas answered with a small smile and nudged the plate towards the hunter.

Dean looked down at the sandwich that sat on it and then looked up at Cas with a frown.

"Ummm…Cas?"

The angel looked up.

"Yes, Dean?"

"Wha—…is this mine?"

Cas frowned.

"Of course."

Dean looked down at the food and then back up again.

"Aren't you gonna eat something?"

Cas stared impassively at Dean.

"I am an Angel of the Lord, Dean." he said in a tone that Dean might have described as exasperated if he didn't know the man – angel – as well as he did. And as a matter of fact, he _did_ know the angel that well and he definitely was exasperated. "I do not require sustenance."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I got that part." he replied in kind, gesturing to the wings, "But I didn't think you _required_ sleep either, and yet…"

To his credit, Cas looked a little cowed at Dean's point.

"I was merely resting in order to recharge."

"Look man, I get that you're all graced up again and what not, but in my book, if you gotta sleep, you gotta eat too."

"Dean—"

"I just want to make sure you're all right." he added.

Cas took in a deep breath, allowing the frustration that was building inside him to subside so that he could concentrate on the emotions coming from Dean and, as expected, they were contradictory. The brunt of it seemed to be indignation and, oddly enough, anger, which had flared up at Cas' initial refusal to eat, but he could feel something else lurking underneath it all, something that felt like…fear.

Cas sighed, his ire dying away as he reached out a hand to grasp Dean's. It was exhausting trying to navigate Dean's emotional responses. But he would do it.

"I am fine." he said in a soft tone that he knew would make the stubborn hunter calm down and listen. Sure enough, Dean closed his mouth and looked at Cas. "Thank you for your concern, but I am fine. I do not need, nor do I wish, to eat."

Dean hesitated, as though he wanted to continue arguing, but eventually he too nodded and glanced down at the sandwich and back up at Cas.

"But are you sure you don't want anything? I could make something real quick, peanut butter and jelly. Grape jelly, not jam because I know you find it unsettling or whatever."

Cas smiled and shook his head.

"I told you I don't need to eat."

"Yeah, but eating's not only about need, it's about enjoying the taste. Besides, you love my PB&Js."

Cas chewed on his lip and looked away.

"It's not the same." he said softly, wistfully.

Dean frowned not only at the angel's tone but also at the sadness that was trickling slowly into his mind.

"What do you mean?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced Sam looking up surreptitiously from his cereal, his eyes full of concern for the angel.

Cas sighed and shifted in his seat.

"As a human, I had to eat constantly. It was rather annoying. But I enjoyed the taste of food. Especially your PB&Js." he smiled at Dean and Dean, to his mortification, found himself blushing at the praise and accompanying rush of emotion from the angel.

Sam cleared his throat after a few moments of uncomfortable silence and staring.

"So what? Now you can't taste PB&J?" the younger Winchester asked.

Cas shook his head.

"No. I taste everything. I taste every molecule."

Dean frowned and Sam looked fascinated.

"Not the sum of its parts, huh?"

The angel shook his head and shuddered as he though back to his first attempts to consume the sandwich after the restoration of his grace, a vain attempt to capture a memory of Dean that didn't want to make him curl up into a ball and hide away until the hurt left.

"It's overwhelming." he answered. "It's disgusting."

He looked back at Dean, once again pinning him with his penetrating gaze.

"I will miss your PB&Js Dean." he said with such conviction and love that Dean had to pause for a moment. He cleared his throat to rid himself of the lump that was forming there because he was not going to go and get all sentimental over a fucking sandwich.

"But you should eat, Dean." Cas added.

Dean glanced down at the food once more.

"You made me a sandwich?"

Cas nodded. "Bacon, egg, lettuce and tomato."

Dean's mouth turned up in a small smile and he locked eyes with Cas.

"You made me a sandwich." he murmured again.

Cas frowned.

"You just said that, Dea—"

Dean cut him off with a kiss, and poured all the gratitude that that one gesture had evoked through the bond, eliciting a small sound of surprise from the startled angel. Dean broke away and ran a fond hand over Castiel's cheek.

"I love you."

Cas' confused look melted into a crooked, beaming smile and they just stared at each other, lost in the swirling emotions until a loud throat-clearing broke the spell. They both glanced over to see Sam with an eyebrow raised and his bitch-face on.

"It's great that you guys are so in love or whatever, but what did I say about the staring?"

…

"So, Sam, how are you?" Castiel asked once Dean had started in on his breakfast.

Sam looked up, eyebrows raised.

"Wha—? Oh, I'm good." he answered. "How're you?"

Cas nodded.

"I am well, thank you. Are you fully healed?"

Dean sent a concerned glance at his brother and Sam assumed his exasperated bitch face.

"Yes, I'm fine." he said emphatically.

Neither Cas nor Dean looked entirely convinced. While Sam no longer looked like a strong wind might knock him over, he still tired easily and was prone to dizzy spells that had Dean wound tighter than a two dollar watch, especially when they were on a case.

"Do you mind if I check?" the angel asked.

"I'm fine." Sam insisted. "Really, there's nothing to worry about."

Cas studied the table.

"It's just that before, I was human and unable to heal you. I just wish to do what I can to help you since you were so helpful to me in my time as a human."

"Oh." Sam deflated a little and Dean sent him a significant glance. "I guess it wouldn't hurt."

Cas looked up hopefully.

"Really?"

Sam nodded and the angel reached his hand across the table and placed two fingers on his forehead, closing his eyes in concentration. Sam gasped as Cas' hand came away and Dean leaned forwards in concern.

"You okay?" he asked his brother.

Sam blinked and looked up.

"Yeah." he gasped breathlessly, looking at Cas.

"You still had some minor burns on some of your organs but you were for the most part healed. You are fine now."

Sam grinned. "Thanks, Cas."

A rush of giddy happiness flowed into Dean from the angel and he glanced over at him. Cas' face was as impassive as ever, but Dean could see the corners of his mouth turned upwards and his eyes soften at Sam's thanks.

"It was nothing." he said softly, but the grin stayed and Dean basked in the secondary glow of joy that Cas was feeling from being able to help Sam. "Just happy to help."

Sam and Dean shared a glance before Dean spoke up.

"You know, you did help before. A lot. You even saved our asses a few times."

Cas glanced at him and looked away.

"I was still mostly a burden to you." he answered softly.

"Hey!" Dean's tone was sharp and, coupled with the anger that suddenly flared up, it had Cas raising his eyebrows at the hunter.

Dean took in a breath.

"Sorry. But I don't want you ever thinking you're a burden to us. Ever. You hear me? 'Cause you've saved me in so many ways. And not as an angel."

Dean held his gaze until Cas smiled and nodded, the uncertainty and self-loathing that had been staining the connection, clearing to love and contentment once more.

Silence settled over the kitchen as Dean and Sam went back to their meals and Cas grabbed a hold of Dean's hand under the table, squeezing it and stroking over the skin as Dean attempted to finish his sandwich one-handed.

Eventually, after a few minutes, Sam, fishing for a new conversation topic asked, "So, how's the angel situation, Cas?"

The angel's pleased expression melted and his wings wilted at the question.

"There has been no word from Metatron. Malachi likewise has gone quiet."

"And Bartholomew?"

Cas hesitated before saying, "He is dead."

"Good." Dean said, swallowing a bite of his meal.

The table went quiet and as Cas' hand slipped out of his, Dean glanced up to see Cas with his head bowed and Sam glaring at him.

"What?" he shrugged. "Dick deserved it. He tried to have Cas killed."

Sam sent a significant glance Cas' way and Dean sighed, setting down his food and really concentrating on the connection with his partner which, for the last few minutes he had largely been ignoring in favour of the awesome breakfast the angel had made for him. Guilt and sadness and loss poured through and Dean sighed.

"Hey." he said softly, reaching over and snatching up Cas' hand once more. The angel looked up, his blue eyes mournful. "You okay?"

Cas glanced away but did not let go of Dean's hand.

"I'm tired of being the cause of the death of my own kind."

"But Bartholomew deserved to die Cas."

Castiel looked up and pinned him with an icy blue stare.

"And who am I to decide that?" The question was soft, his tone...lost. "He was following my example. Everything he did, every angel he killed was because of me."

"That's not true, Cas."

"Yes it is."

Dean sighed and Cas closed his eyes, shaking his head.

"You saw what I became." he murmured. "You saw the havoc I wrecked." He closed his mouth and swallowed, shaking his head. A wave of misery flowed into Dean.

The hunter glanced at his brother and Sam gestured leaving to which Dean nodded. Once they were alone, Dean pulled his chair around so he was sitting facing the angel, and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Hey."

Cas opened his eyes but did not look up at Dean.

"Look at me."

Blue met green.

"That thing that you became. That wasn't you."

"But it was me who allowed it to happen."

"And it was you who wanted it to end."

Cas didn't look entirely convinced so Dean pulled him forward into a hug and began stroking his fingers through the soft down of his wing. Cas buried his face in the crook of Dean's neck, marvelling at the comfort such contact provoked.

Dean stared at the damaged, broken wings and tried to imagine what they might have looked like even a year ago. How impressive they would have been. How destructive the fall had been for Cas and his kind.

He sighed.

"This is why you need to go off and help, isn't it?" he asked quietly, knowing the answer and knowing what he had to do.

"I need to at least try. I need to make up for what I've done in whatever way I can."

Dean nodded, his cheek pressed to the angel's soft hair, inhaling the scent of the man he had inexplicably fallen in love with. He pulled the angel in closer, tighter, knowing he would have to let him go.

"Then I'm not going to stop you."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Real life obligations sort of got in the way (Ugh! Real life!)
> 
> Anyhoo, hope you enjoy this one, please leave comments, and I will endeavour to update more frequently!
> 
> :D


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during 9x18 Meta Fiction
> 
> Enjoy!

"Quit moping."

 

"I'm not moping!"

 

"Yes you are!"

 

"No I'm not!"

 

"All you've been doing the past week is moping. Moping and pining."

 

"I'm not pining."

 

"Are too."

 

"Am not."

 

"Are too."

 

"Am not!"

 

"Are too!"

 

"Am not!"

 

"Are—"

 

Sam closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as Dean grinned at what he perceived to be a grand victory.

 

"Whatever. Why don't you just go…clean your weapons or something? At least it'll help get your mind off of…you know."

 

Dean huffed out an annoyed breath and crossed his arms, looking away, his forehead creased as he pierced the wall with a mighty frown.

 

"Already did that. Three times." he muttered.

 

Sam let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like "pining" and Dean fixed him with a withering glance that Sam was sure he had learned from Cas.

 

"Really?"

 

Sam shrugged and tried to hide his blush behind his book.

 

"Just saying."

 

Dean rolled his eyes and let out a sigh which was decidedly not full of longing and gave the roof one more long hard stare before sitting up and moving to the table where Sam was surrounded by books.

 

Dean picked one up at random and read the title.

 

"On Angels and Other Heavenly Beings."

 

He stared at Sam who shrugged.

 

"What? I just thought I'd read up on them, in case Cas ends up needing our help."

 

Dean threw the book down and muttered, "Nerd." before flopping down in one of the chairs that circled the library desk, and rested his head on his fist.

 

"So…where's Cas now?" Sam ventured.

 

Dean shot Sam an irritated glare but sat up straighter in his seat and stared at the wall.

 

"I dunno. Somewhere in Utah last I checked."

 

"I thought you guys could like, read each other's minds now or something."

 

Dean shook his head.

 

"Only works when we're close by. And even then it takes some effort. With him this far away I can barely feel him, let alone hear what he's thinking."

 

Sam shook his head.

 

"And here I thought you two couldn't get any weirder."

 

Dean shrugged.

 

"Yeah, well, I guess that's what happens when you fall in love with an angel. Not really surprising though, given our lives."

 

Sam nodded.

 

"I suppose you're right. So what's Cas feeling now?"

 

Dean's eyes unfocused and he was silent a moment before he came back and said with a frown, "Curious, alert, concerned."

 

Sam looked fascinated by Dean's answer.

 

"You can really feel all that?"

 

Dean sent him a warning glance that told Sam he was walking on thin ice with his talk of feelings.

 

"Yeah." he answered concisely, clearing his throat at the awkwardness of the conversation. He stood and stalked out of the room.

 

"Where're you going?" Sam called after him.

 

"Food!" Dean answered without breaking his stride.

 

Sam shook his head and went back to his research, pouring over every book the bunker had on angels in an attempt to gain any information that might help Castiel.

 

A phone vibrating loudly against the wood of the table interrupted him, and he had to lift several books before finding Dean's phone, Castiel's serious face peering out at him from the screen with 'Babe Calling' proclaimed at the top.

 

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother who, despite his dislike of all things touchy feely, was honestly one of the world’s biggest romantic mush balls.

 

He took the call.

 

"Hey, Cas."

 

There was a pause.

 

"Sam?"

 

Sam smirked.

 

"Yeah."

 

"Oh."

 

Sam tried to ignore the disappointment he could hear clear as day in the angel's voice.

 

"Where's Dean?"

 

"He's eating. What's going on?"

 

"Metatron is gathering forces and killing all who oppose him."

 

"Shit.” He proclaimed and sat up straighter in his chair, “How?"

 

"He's summoning angels and giving them an offer. All who say no are slaughtered by his right hand, Gadreel."

 

While Cas was talking, Dean had wandered in, his mouth stuffed with what looked like the other half of the sandwich he held in his hand. Sam tutted at his brother's horrendous table manners and switched the phone over to the speaker.

 

"What offer?"

 

"He said all who joined him would be let back into heaven."

 

Sam and Dean shared a confused look.

 

"But I thought the spell was irreversible. That's what the tablet said right?"

 

"Yes." Cas answered, "I do not know if he is telling the truth or a lie but regardless, many angels have been killed."

 

"By this Gadreel guy?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Maybe we can trap him and see if he knows anything. Maybe there is a way to reopen heaven after all."

 

"Perhaps." Cas didn't sound too hopeful. "Here is something to start with at least. Hold on, I'm umm…sending you a photo of the symbol that drew all the angels in." Sam and Dean could hear the angel fumbling with the phone. Despite having become more accustomed to technology over the years, his operation of machines still lacked finesse to say the least.

 

At last the file came through and Sam downloaded it to the computer with Dean hovering over his shoulder to look at it.

 

"Okay, got it." Sam said when it popped up on the screen.

 

"It's acting as some kind of angel siren." Cas explained, "I think it's a spell. The ingredients used to create it were very odd... Griffin feathers, bones of a fairy. I've never seen it before."

 

Sam nodded in agreement.

 

"Yeah. Me, neither. All right. Let me see what I can find."

 

As Sam dove straight into research mode, Dean could hear Cas muttering to himself.

 

"'Honour Bar'. What's honourable about a miniature bar in a motel room?"

 

"Everything." Dean answered.

 

There was a pause and when he spoke again, there was an audible smile in Castiel's gruff voice.

 

"How are you, Dean?"

 

Love and affection trickled through the long distance of the connection and Dean found himself unable to stop the grin that bloomed on his face.

 

"I'm good, Cas, how 'bout you?"

 

Castiel sighed.

 

"I miss my wings. Life on the road…smells. And I miss you."

 

Dean's smile grew wistful.

 

"I miss you too."

 

Sam cleared his throat.

 

"Yeah. Listen, I got a match, and it's not from the lore... it's from police records. Looks like that symbol you found was spotted at a handful of crime scenes the last couple days, all multiple homicides."

 

"And where were these crime scenes?"

 

"Uh, Utah... Baker, Hill Valley."

 

"And I'm in Bishop's Falls, Utah."

 

"Also looks like most of the crime scenes were in industrial areas." Sam added.

 

"Looks like Gadreel is heading north." Castiel concluded.

 

"What's the next big town?" Dean interjected.

 

"There are two. It could be Auburn or Ogden."

 

"All right, you take Auburn, we'll take Ogden... meet in the middle."

 

"Very well. And Dean? Be careful."

 

"Shut up." Dean answered.

 

"I love you too." the angel shot back before hanging up.

 

Dean stared down at the phone and sighed wistfully. He glanced up to see Sam staring pointedly at him.

 

"I'm not pining!" he barked as he strode out of the room to pack a bag.

 

…

 

Half an hour later they were finishing up checking their weapons and ready to go.

 

"All right, let's head out."

 

Dean turned, hefting his overnight bag, and made it about two steps before he collapsed to the ground.

 

"Dean!" Sam's bag hit the floor and lay forgotten as he rushed to his brother's side.

 

Dean was huddled up against a pillar, his eyes closed and body shaking as his breaths came in short gasps.

 

"Dean? Dean!"

 

 

He reached for his brother's shoulder and Dean gasped and clutched his arm, his eyes opening wide.

 

"He's gone, Sammy, h-he's gone."

 

"What? Who's gone Dean?"

 

"Cas." He whispered through laboured breaths.

Sam frowned.

 

"What do you mean Cas is gone?"

 

"He's gone!" Dean shouted, "I can't feel him! He's just…gone!"

 

The elder Winchester struggled to his feet and took off. Sam grabbed their bags and followed after him, finally catching up to him in the garage where he was trying, and failing, to unlock the car with unsteady hands.

 

"Dean—"

 

"Sam, I need to find him, I need—"

 

"Dean!" Sam grabbed his hands and pulled them away from the car, holding Dean's shaking ones in his steady grasp. "That's fine. But I think I should drive."

 

"Sam—" Dean started in a warning voice.

 

"No. You're in no condition to drive. And besides," he glanced down at the lock, "You're going to scratch her paint job."

 

Dean mulled Sam's words over before letting out a frustrated growl and stalking over to the passenger door.

 

Once they were on the road and Dean had calmed down somewhat, Sam tried reasoning with his slightly more clear-headed brother.

 

"I just don't think it's really worth it to go after Cas."

 

"We should follow the original plan and track down this Gadreel guy."

 

"Maybe he knows what happened."

 

"I mean for all we know, Cas is fine. Maybe it's just that the connection has gone all screwy."

 

Sam didn't really believe that last part. Dean had tried calling Cas twenty times now and every single time it had gone straight to voicemail.

 

"I can't lose him, Sam. Not again."

 

Eventually Dean agreed to the new plan of following the old plan and they reached Ogden only to find the body of a well meaning, if a little vague, dude who'd helped them out in a case in the area a few years back. Dean's ire rose again at the sight of the dead body and by the time they had Gadreel trapped and tied to a chair, he was about ready to rip someone – or something's – head off.

 

"Where is he!?"

 

The angel sat placidly in his chair, his indifferent manner only serving to anger Dean more.

 

"I know not of whom you speak."

 

"Bullshit!" Dean growled. "What did you do to him?!"

 

"Again, I cannot give you an answer if I do not understand the question."

 

Dean let out a primal growl of rage and stalked forward, his grip on the angel blade tightening.

 

"Dean!" Sam leapt forward and tugged his brother back.

 

Gadreel smirked.

 

"You humans. So ruled by your emotions." He shook his head. "It was and always shall be your downfall."

 

"Oh yeah?" Sam quipped. "And whose fault was our downfall in the first place, huh?"

 

The angel's face twisted at Sam's words.

 

"That was not my fault." he spat.

 

"But it was your job, right?" the younger Winchester threw back. "To protect the garden? To protect God's finest creation? Nice going."

 

The angel growled and fought against his bonds.

 

"Alright enough of this!" Dean interjected, "Where's Cas? What have you done to him?"

 

Gadreel threw one last angry look at Sam before turning to Dean.

 

"Castiel, you mean? The rebel? Do not worry. My master has him safe."

 

"Where." Dean hissed through clenched teeth.

 

The angel smiled. "Like I said. Safe."

 

The buildup of rage caused by the empty hole that Castiel's absence had left in its wake rose to unbearable heights, and Dean raised the blade in his shaking fist when, in a rush of light and warmth and comfort, Castiel's presence was once again pulsing in the back of Dean's mind.

 

He gasped and dropped the weapon, his knees going weak from the sudden influx of emotion.

 

"Dean?" Sam rushed forwards to grasp his brother's arm as he swayed on the spot.

 

"He's back."

 

Sam glanced up to see Gadreel frowning in growing interest at Dean's supposed connection with Cas, and then ushered his brother out of earshot of the angel and sat him down.

 

"Do you know where he is?" Sam asked.

 

Dean shook his head.

 

"But we need him, Sam. We're not getting anything out of this guy."

 

Sam sighed.

 

"Okay. You go. Try and find Cas. I'll stay here."

 

Dean began to protest but Sam shook his head.

 

"No, Dean. You're too wound up about this. Go find Cas. I'll be fine."

 

He held up the Impala's keys, which Dean took after a moment's hesitation. Sam nodded and clapped him on the shoulder before heading back to where the angel sat, hoping he could get some information by the time Dean got back.

 

As it turned out, Metatron found Dean first and a trade was offered, a plan to trap Metatron was hatched – which did not go quite as planned – and the boys found themselves in the parking lot of the Cedar Lodge in Bishop's Falls, Utah, watching a black car pull up and Castiel step out as Metatron retrieved Gadreel from the trunk of the Impala, erasing the angel warding sigils there with an idle gesture as he did so.

 

Dean resisted the urge to grab a hold of Cas and never let go when he set his eyes on the angel, but Metatron was already speaking again.

 

"Well, a deal is a deal."

 

Dean's anger surged.

 

"Why are you doing this?"

 

Metatron stalked forward.

 

"Because I can. Because you and your little brother and your fine, feathered friend and all those secrets you've got locked away in your bunker can't stop me. But I am going to enjoy watching you try. It's gonna be a hell of a show." He turned to the angel. "I'll see you around, Castiel. Never forget I gave you a chance."

 

They stood in silence for a beat after Metatron had departed and then Dean turned to Cas and grabbed him by the shoulder.

 

"You okay?" he asked, his relief at having the angel back in his mind and his grasp forcing a tremble into his voice.

 

Cas nodded.

 

"I'm fine Dean." he assured.

 

Dean nodded, eyes scanning over the angel before pulling him in for a heated kiss and a crushing hug.

 

"Don't you ever go disappearing on me like that again," he said into the tan cloth of the angel's coat.

 

Cas sent a confused glance at Dean's brother.

 

"Wherever Metatron took you, it cut off your connection or whatever with Dean."

 

Cas' eyes widened in shock and he pulled Dean off of him.

 

"Dean?" he asked, his eyes seeking out the hunter's.

 

Dean shook his head. He could feel tears of relief spring up in his eyes, heating his cheeks and there was no way he was going to burst out crying in some parking lot in front of his brother.

 

"Couldn't feel you." he managed. "Didn't like it."

 

Cas took in the hunter. Took in his shaking hands and watery eyes and hair that was standing on end from having hands running through it for the better part of a day. He sighed and kissed the man. Hard. Pouring as much love and comfort as he could through the reinstated connection.

 

"I'm here." he whispered against the hunter's mouth. Dean smiled and nuzzled his nose against Cas'.

 

"What happened? Where did he take you?" Dean asked, pulling away but keeping his hands grasping Cas' shoulders.

 

"He…was attempting to persuade me to lead the angels in a rebellion against him."

 

Dean frowned.

 

"Why would he do that?" Sam's voice sounded from behind Dean and he swung around, having momentarily forgotten his brother was even in the vicinity.

 

Cas shook his head.

 

"I do not think he is entirely mentally stable. He seems to fancy himself as some kind of hero who required a villain, an antagonist. And apparently he wants it to be me."

 

Sam's frown did not dissipate but he nodded nonetheless.

 

"But, where did you go?" Dean asked, "Why couldn't I feel you?"

 

"He had me in some kind of fabricated alternate universe. I was still aware of you but that may have been a part of the construction."

 

"Like with Gabriel and the TV land?" Dean asked.

 

Cas went quiet. Grief clouded the connection, and Dean's frown deepened.

 

"Hey," he asked, "What is it? What's wrong?"

 

Cas glanced up at Dean and then away.

 

"Gabriel was there." he said softly. "He was persuading me to fight against Metatron."

 

Dean glanced at Sam whose expression had hardened somewhat at the mention of the trickster who still caused him nightmares about Dean's many, many deaths.

 

"But he wasn't real." Dean replied. "I mean, he's dead."

 

Cas stared back at Dean with stone cold eyes.

 

"He was still my brother, Dean. It was still difficult to see him again and just as difficult to say goodbye." He looked away, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes and Dean felt like shit. "And as for him being dead," he added, "I wouldn't be so sure of that."

 

Dena knew he should apologize, wanted to apologize, but Cas just looked up at him and gave him a small smile.

 

"It's okay." he said simply. "I know."

 

Dean sighed, and pulled the angel in. He might not be a huge fan of the guy's family, but he could understand where Cas was coming from.

 

"We need to figure out what we're going to do now." Sam declared, changing the subject and trying to steer the conversation away from any more awkward emotional moments between his brother and his brother's angel.

 

"Metatron is trying to play God." Castiel stated.

 

"Play God?” Sam asked rhetorically, “Cas, he erased the angel warding from the trunk of the car. He friggin' blew out Holy Fire. He is God. He's powering up with the angel tablet. How the hell are we supposed to stop this guy?"

 

"All right," Dean suggested, "so what if there is a stairway to heaven? We find it and get a drop on the guy."

 

"You want to sneak onto the Death Star, take out the emperor?" Sam's tone suggested he didn't think that was a terribly well thought out plan to which Dean shrugged.

 

Cas spoke up.

 

"Okay I... I'm not sure what a fictional battle station in space has to do with this, but if taking out the emperor means taking out Metatron, I'm on board."

 

Dean stared at the angel like he'd suddenly grown another limb and exchanged a confused glance with Sam.

 

"Wait," he said, stepping back, planting a hand on Cas' shoulder, staring him in the face, "did you... did you just understand a Death Star reference?"

 

Cas nodded.

 

"Yes, I think so. But I don't understand what that has to do with heaven."

 

Sam looked at Dean and shrugged.

 

"It's halfway, I guess."

 

Dean was clearly having more trouble wrapping his head around the concept of Cas being pop culture savvy.

 

"But…what?! How?"

 

Cas shrugged.

 

"When Metatron had me he…downloaded his collected knowledge of human literature into my brain. I suppose he too was tired of me not understanding his references."

 

Sam looked thoughtful while Dean struggled to process the knowledge.

 

"So now you get the literal reference but you're still struggling with the metaphorical one." Sam speculated.

 

Cas' expression turned thoughtful.

 

"That is interesting. I shall have to give it some thought."

 

Dean shook his head.

 

"Whatever. You know what? I'm too tired for this shit right now." He turned to the angel with a suggestive eyebrow raised. "How about it Cas? You wanna come back to the bunker for a little R&R for the weekend?"

 

Cas looked regretful and shook his head.

 

"I cannot. With Metatron growing in power, I…I know what I must do."

 

Dean shrugged.

 

"Well, it's a long way back to Kansas. And it'll be a hell of a lot nicer drive in the morning so…" He glanced lasciviously at the angel and fed his growing desire through the connection.

 

Cas gulped and turned to Sam.

 

"Get a room." he ordered before grabbing Dean's wrist and pulling him with all of his considerable angel strength through the door to room number 7. Dean sent Sam a wide grin before the door slammed shut.

 

Sam rolled his eyes and headed to the office, praying there was some sort of vacancy. He didn't particularly feel like spending the night sleeping in the car.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray for updates!
> 
> Please leave a comment
> 
> Happy Halloween!!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Contains spoilers from It's a Wonderful Life and unabashed gooey fluff
> 
> Enjoy!

Dean stared out at the vastness of the space in front of him and gulped, his pulse quickening as his heart began to pump in fear. What the hell was he doing? He couldn't do this. Killing monsters? Yes. Averting the apocalypse? Yes. Damning his soul to eternal hell in exchange for his brother's life? Yes. But this? This was terrifying.

What the hell was he going to get Cas for Christmas?

Sam had been the one to bring up the holiday a few weeks ago at dinner when Dean had  _just_  bitten into his bacon cheeseburger.

"What do you think about doing Christmas this year?"

Dean had nearly choked to death over that innocuous little question and Sam had had to pound pretty hard on his brother's back to restore regular breathing.

"What?" Was all he had managed once the wheezing had subsided.

"Christmas." Sam repeated. "What do you think about celebrating it this year?"

Dean stared long and hard at his brother, hoping he would chuckle and say 'just kidding' and that would be the end of it. But he didn't.

"You're serious?" Dean confirmed and Sam shrugged.

"Sure why not?"

"Because  _we_  do not  _do_  Christmas." He enunciated slowly, as though explaining something to a very small, very slow child.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"We do sometimes." He countered.

"That time didn't count. I was dying." Dean threw back.

Sam huffed and sat back in his chair.

"Why are you so interested now all of a sudden?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged.

"Because nothing is actively trying to kill us. The world isn't ending. We closed the Gates of Hell. We actually have a place to host it. Kevin and Linda are probably going to want to do something. You've got Cas now…I just thought it would be nice that's all."

"What does me having Cas have anything to do with it."

"I just thought it would be a nice thing for you guys to celebrate. Together."

Dean sighed and sat back.

"I don't know Sammy."

"Come on Dean." He pleaded, his puppy dog eyes coming out the way they always did when he sensed he was close to winning Dean over. "We haven't celebrated it since before either of us went to Hell. Don't you think that it's about time?"

Sam's statement wasn't quite true but Dean wasn't about to bring up the Christmas he'd spent with Lisa and Ben, aka the Christmas where he'd let them do their own thing, gone out, gotten wasted, and kicked down every angel in every nativity scene he'd come across on his long, unsteady way home. But now Sam was staring him with those eyes and he could feel his will crumbling.

Which lead to this moment of standing frozen in the middle of some random mall in Lebanon, Kansas and realizing he had  _literally_  no clue what to get his angelic boyfriend for Christmas. Not that he'd actually discussed the idea with Cas yet. For some reason the thought of calling his boyfriend to ask if he wanted to celebrate Christmas with him was even more terrifying than the idea of buying a gift for him. He told himself it was because his boyfriend was an ancient, celestial being who had rebelled against, and gotten kicked out of, heaven more than once and that was the  _only reason why_.

He wandered for hours, walking into shops at random and ducking pushy sales people who asked  _if he was looking for anything in particular_ and if so  _could they help him find anything?_

Screw hell,  _this_  was a nightmare.

He was on the verge of giving up when something in a nearby store caught his eye. He stopped in his tracks, nearly got run over by a gaggle of frantic holiday shoppers, and moved, as though in a trance, toward it.

He stared. It was perfect. It was just so…Cas.

But would he like it? What if he didn't like it? Was it too much? Over the top? It was probably over the top. Or what if Dean bought it and then Cas didn't come for Christmas? What would he do then? He supposed he could always give it to Kevin. But still, was it even worth getting it? Cas probably wasn't even going to come. He'd be too busy or he'd think it was stupid or he'd be offended. And even if he  _did_  come and Dean  _did_ give it to him, that wouldn't guarantee that Cas would stay. He'd probably leave as soon as Dean and his billion emotional problems became to much for him or he'd win the war against Metatron and restore heaven and go back home and remember how nice it was to be with his family again and forget all about Dean…

His ringing phone interrupted his thoughts and he didn't even bother to check who it was as he tapped the screen to answer.

"Hello?" he greeted, his voice flat and lifeless.

"What's wrong?" Cas' voice was worried, "Why do you feel like this?"

Dean smiled.

"Hey Cas." He murmured, swiping at his eye – he was  _not_  crying, there was just something in it – "I'm fine. How are you?"

"You are not fine Dean, you are feeling lonely and abandoned. Why?"

Dean shook his head.

"No reason, it's stupid." There was a pause down the line and Dean had to concentrate on his connection with Cas to feel the doubt that still lingered there. "Listen, hey umm…Sam wants to have Christmas this year and I said yes…so…what do you think?"

Cas took a moment to process Dean's non sequitur before responding.

"I think it is a wonderful idea for you and your brother to participate in a celebration of life and love and family."

_You and your brother._

Dean cleared his throat.

"So…you don't want to come then?" he tried to phrase it as casually as possible so as not to alert Cas to the fact that he was slowly dying inside.

"You mean I'm invited?" The angel asked.

"Of course you're invited you idiot!" Dean exclaimed, earning him a reproachful look from the man behind the counter.

"Oh." Cas answered. "I would be very honored to be included in the festivities Dean."

Dean nodded, "Alright then. I'll see you soon then."

Giddy joy flowed through from the angel making Dean smile.

"I look forward to seeing you Dean."

The call ended and Dean waved to get the attention of one of the staff.

"Ummm, yeah, I'd like to buy this one."

…

Sam was sitting reading in the library when his phone buzzed. He picked it up, frowning at the caller I.D., and answered.

"Hey Cas, Dean's not here."

"Yes, I just finished speaking to him. He invited me to Christmas and it occurs to me that it might be appropriate from me to purchase him a present and I have no idea what to get him."

…

Cas insisted on getting the tree himself. He also said he wanted to do it alone but Dean was having none of that; after the long weeks spent apart, there was no way he was letting the angel out of his sight.

So they strolled through the wilderness hand in hand, boots crunching over frozen ground, fingers intertwined. Dean breathed in the crisp, clean air, letting his body and mind relax as they made their way deeper into the woods.

It reminded him of Purgatory in a way but different as well. The atmosphere was calmer here; it didn't reek of danger and death the way that place had. The lighting too was different, more...human. Dean had never been able to discover whether or not there was a sun in Purgatory. There was a day/night cycle and yet Dean hadn't slept his entire year there. He had felt exhaustion but never a  _need_ for sleep and hunger but never a  _need_  to sate it. Also Benny wasn't there. Cas looked up as his mind lingered on his lost friend and squeezed his hand in a silent show of support. Dean smiled and stopped, pulling the angel in and kissing him hard, hands tangling in hair and wing feathers as he celebrated finally having his angel all to himself.

Finally, they came to a copse of spruces and Dean sat down, letting Cas wander in and out of sight amongst the trees. He let his mind focus on the connection with the angel and felt an immense amount of concentration aimed at the surrounding wilderness. Every so often Cas would stop and stare at a tree and Dean could feel a hum start from someplace deep inside himself. As Cas drifted, the humming intensified until it felt like the whole forest was vibrating around him, coming into alignment. It built and built as the angel ran his hands over and through branches and bark, rising to a crescendo until something clicked and Dean could feel his whole being settle into perfect harmony with the surrounding area. Castiel's mind was placid, focused, at peace. It flowed into Dean, and he found himself losing all sense of time. All he was aware of was the forest. He imagined he could feel the roots that ran deep into the ground, feeding on the life-giving energy of the earth. Everything around him was singing in perfect harmony and he had to fight not to get swept away by it. There was something wrong though, a discord that sat like an oily sheen over the rest of the beauty, tainting it.

And then the feeling was gone and Cas was trudging quietly over to him.

"I have found it."

"What the hell was that Cas?" Dean asked.

Castiel frowned and tilted his head.

"What was what?"

"That…humming. The forest, the earth, everything."

Castiel's eyes widened.

"You felt that?"

Dean nodded.

"Yeah. Through you I think."

Castiel nodded.

"Fascinating." He murmured before continuing. "I was communing with the trees. Trying to find the best choice. I found it."

He offered Dean his hand and pulled the hunter to his feet, leading him to a goodly sized spruce standing proud amongst the others. Its branches were dense and strong, they would hold ornaments and lights well, and it was tall, nearly eight feet. Dean assessed it and nodded. It was a beautiful tree.

"All right." He agreed, "What's so special about this one anyway?"

"It's dying." Cas explained.

Dean glanced over at him.

"You want a diseased tree for Christmas?" he asked.

"Do you not think it more fitting to choose a tree that will perish anyway rather than cut down one that might otherwise live for hundreds of more years? At least this way it can be a part of something special before it dies."

"You're talking like it has feelings. It's a tree."

Castiel fixed him with his penetrating gaze.

"You felt it though; the forest and the life within it. How can you doubt now its capacity to sense? Just because it doesn't have a central nervous system does not mean it lacks an ability to feel."

Dean tried thinking about this but it made his head hurt.

"Whatever babe, lets just get the tree, I'm freezing my ass off out here."

Cas smirked and turned back to the tree. With a gesture, the trunk was cut and it was felled, only to be caught by Castiel's strong grasp. Dean moved over to the other end of the spruce and hoisted the base of the trunk up in both hands.

"I am perfectly capable of carrying this myself Dean." Cas argued.

"Yeah I know." Dean said, "I just want to help is all. Besides, it'll be faster with both of us carrying it."

Cas continued to stare at him and Dean rolled his eyes.

"For crying out loud Cas, it's not like I'm going to think you're any less of an angel because I'm helping you carry this thing. I know how strong you are."

Cas looked a little embarrassed by the flaring of his ego, his cheeks reddening in a blush that looked, dare he think it, cute.

They got the tree back to the bunker and up with little trouble. Linda and Kevin ended up taking over most of the decorating since neither Sam nor Cas had ever decorated a tree before and Dean could barely remember the first few Christmases of his childhood.

But between the five of them they managed and they all stood back to look in awe at the tree all lit up and sparkling, a star sitting proudly at the top because there was no way Dean was having a fucking angel perched up there.

Dean felt a warm glow start deep in his chest as he stared at the tree and he slung an arm around Castiel's shoulders and pulled him in close.

…

Sam insisted on watching  _It's a Wonderful Life_  after Dean had failed to react in recognition when Sam had brought it up.

"Come on Dean, it's a good movie. A  _classic_. You  _have_  to watch it."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Fine. I'll watch your stupid movie."

"What are you guys arguing about?" Cas asked, entering to room bearing two glasses of eggnog and handing them out.

"Nothing." Dean answered, "Sam's making us watch some old movie."

" _It's a Wonderful Life_  Dean." His brother insisted.

Cas paused and frowned and then said softly, "Is that why she called me Clarence?"

Dean looked confused. Sam looked somber.

"Yeah Cas." He answered.

Dean looked back and forth between the two of them.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked.

"There's a character called Clarence in the movie." Sam explained, "He's an angel who helps people. Well, one person. It's what Meg used to call him."

Dean looked over at Cas.

"You've seen It's a Wonderful Life?"

Cas looked up.

"Metatron has." He answered by way of explanation.

Silence reigned for an awkward moment.

"Whatever." Dean said finally, breaking the tension, "Let's just watch the stupid thing."

Dean did not cry.

He did not cry when George Bailey jumped into the freezing river to save his brother, he did not cry when the alcoholic pharmacist hit George so hard is ear bled, he did not cry when George was standing in the snow and the cold on the bridge an inch away from throwing himself into the icy depths below, and he certainly did not cry when at the end, the cute as a button Zuzu proclaimed loudly, "Every time a bell rings an angel get's his wings!"

No, definitely no crying…he just had something in his eyes.

"So, what did you think?" Sam asked once he had switched off the screen.

"It was good." Dean sniffed (he was just coming down with a cold was all.)

…

Later, when he and Cas were cuddled together in the silence of their darkened room, when Dean was stroking through the soft feathers at the base of Castiel's wings and the angel was writing nonsense Enochian symbols onto Dean's bare skin, he whispered, "I wish it were that easy."

"What do you mean?" the angel asked.

"Like, I wish I could just ring a bell and give you your wings back."

Cas shifted until he was looking up at Dean. He stared long and hard at the hunter. Not saying anything, just staring.

"Thank you Dean." He said softly with conviction and certainty in his gruff tones. "But if I had to choose between my wings and you, I would choose you. Every time."

…

"Alright, let's get this over with."

It was Christmas morning and Kevin and Linda had exchanged gifts with each other and the boys before excusing themselves for some mother son bonding time alone leaving Sam, Dean, and Cas to exchanged their own presents. Dean picked up a rectangular package wrapped in cheery Christmas paper and handed it to his brother.

"Merry Christmas Sam." He said, clearing his throat at the awkwardness of the tradition that they did not normally partake in.

"Thanks Dean." Sam smiled and looked down at the present, a bow stuck to it and underneath, a tag with a snowman on it that read:

To: Sam

From: Dean

Merry Christmas Bro

He tore off the paper to find a leather book, fastened with a silver clasp which bore a tiny devil's trap on it. It was a warmer brown than that of their father's journal and when he opened it up, he found the letters S.W. embossed on the inside cover with three pictures clipped above it. One was of Mary holding a newborn Sam, a four year old Dean peering down at his new brother with a protective fire in his young eyes. The second was of Sam, Dean and Cas, taken during Castiel's time as a human with Dean in the middle, his arms slung over the shoulders of the two men, and the third was of Dean and Sam, taken years ago in a moment of joy and laughter.

Sam stared down at the memories and the new journal and then looked up at Dean with distinctly watery eyes.

Dean cleared his throat again.

"I know you don't really like using Dad's journal so much anymore." He explained, shrugging his shoulders, "besides, I figured it was time for you to start one of your own."

Sam nodded, looking back down at the gift and stroking over the soft leather.

"Thanks Dean." He said softly, tracing his mother's face, the face of a woman he had never known except in pictures and vague memories and Dean's words. "Here."

He held out his own gift, this too wrapped in proper festive paper with falling snow and Santa Clauses.

Dean smiled and took it. It was small and light. It sparked a memory but before he could figure out what it reminded him of, he had already opened it. A leather cord curled in large loops around a heavy gold object. With reverence, Dean grasped the cord and held it up until the pendant hung, swinging and glinting in the dim light of the bunker. He looked away from the amulet he had last seen sitting at the bottom of a trashcan four years ago and over at his brother who was looking back in trepidation.

"You saved this?" he asked in a soft voice.

Sam nodded, still unsure which way his brother was going to go on this, whether or not it would be a welcome gift.

"Yeah. I was never sure whether you wanted it back or not but I just thought…what with it being Christmas and all…" he trailed off, Dean's gaze had turned back to the necklace which he stared at hard for another moment before slipping it over his head and letting it rest against his chest. He fingered the talisman and turned back to Sam.

"Thanks Sammy." He whispered, "I love it."

Sam smiled as Dean reached forward and pulled him in for a hug, clapping him on the back and squeezing hard.

They broke away and Dean swiped surreptitiously at his eyes while Sam passed a parcel over to the angel.

"Merry Christmas Cas."

Cas stared a moment before accepting the gift.

"Thank you Sam." He answered, staring at the box before sliding his fingers beneath the folds of coloured paper and unsticking the tape as gently as he could manage.

"You're supposed to rip it babe." Dean said.

Cas looked up.

"But I don't want to ruin all the hard work that Sam put into wrapping this."

Dean rolled his eyes and sat back as Cas continued to methodically unwrap the present.

Once the paper had fallen clean of the box, he stared at the gift, eyes wide and mouth open as honour and disbelief wafted through the connection.

He looked up at Sam.

"You bought me a camera?"

Sam shrugged.

"Yeah, I mean, I know you like taking pictures, I just thought you'd like something better than your phone."

The angel looked back down at the box and smiled.

"Thank you Sam." He said in his soft, certain tones, "It is very much appreciated."

Dean stood and went to retrieve a large, rectangular object that sat in the corner by the tree with a blanket draped over it.

"Uhhh, may have gone a little overboard." He explained, scratching the back of his head as Cas frowned down at the object, "But, well, I hope you like it."

Castiel tugged at the blanket and let it fall to the ground, staring at the cage that was revealed and the large rodent that sat inside. It turned its eyes to Cas and blue met blue as Castiel stared down at the animal.

"It's a guinea pig." Dean said needlessly.

Cas looked up with wonderment on his face.

"He is mine?" he asked with breathless wonder.

Dean laughed.

"Of course he's yours. Why? Don't you like him?"

Cas frowned and shook his head.

"No, I love him." he opened the cage and lifted the creature out, setting the cage on the floor and stoking his fingers through the dark fur.

"Really?" Dean asked.

Castiel beamed back up at him as his fingers continued carding through the hair.

"Yes." He breathed, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Dean's lips before pulling back and looking down at the ball of fur sitting contentedly in the palm of Castiel's hand.

"Good." Dean grinned, feeling secondhand giddiness from the positive emotions pouring through the connection as the angel focused on his newly acquired pet.

"Thank you both." He smiled at Sam and Dean, his fingers running over the soft fur of his new pet.

Eventually, the small, furry animal fell asleep beneath Castiel's tender ministrations and the angel dropped him gently back into his cage before turning to Dean.

"I would like to give you my gift now." he said softly and Dean could detect a measure of excitement and nervousness flowing through the connection.

"Sure Cas." he said, looking around for the present.

"It is not physical." he said enigmatically and then his fingers were on Dean's forehead and the hunter was falling into darkness.

...

The next thing he knew, he was standing in a dark room, moonlight spilling in through a solitary window. A wave of recognition washed over him as he took in the dimly lit surroundings; the dormer window, the carpet, the porcelain angel that sat serenely on a shelf above the crib.

This was his room. Had been his room.

He looked down into the crib and his eyes lit on the infant there and his stomach jolted as he stared down at his sleeping self.

He looked for what felt like an age until the baby began to squirm, then wake, then wail.

"Shit." Dean whispered and reached down instinctively to try to calm him. His arms made no contact with either the child or the crib.

Baby Dean continued to cry and adult Dean look on helplessly when the door opened and a sleepy looking Mary entered with a soft smile.

"Hey baby." she whispered as she moved to the crib, "Hello my little angel."

She reached down and lifted him into her arms and as she did so, Dean felt a warm embrace that he had not felt in a lifetime; arms wrapping securely around him, holding him, protecting him.

Mary shhed and cooed and bounced the crying baby as she moved around the room. She checked him and tried to feed him but he kept on crying. Finally she sat down in the rocking chair in the corner and began to sing.

_Hey Jude, don't be afraid_

_take a sad song and make it better_

As the melody flowed from her lips and the baby slowly began to settle backing into the deep sleep of innocent babes, Dean sat down, closed his eyes, and basked in the feeling of being rocked and sung to and held and loved.

…

The scene changed. Mary was flitting around the kitchen, looking like an angel in her white nightgown and housecoat. Not a dick angel, a proper angel. Like a painting. Her hair free and flowing as she brewed coffee and occasionally stopped to smile at baby Dean who watched, captivated from his bassinette. Nothing remarkable happened, it was just another day, but Dean soaked it up like sunshine in the spring, drinking in the maternal love he had been denied in his childhood.

It continued. Days and months and years passing as he watched and felt every moment spent in his mother's presence. Food shopping and trips to the park, his first steps. He watched his mother as she stared in awe at his first laugh, his first words, looking down on him as though he was the most precious thing in the world. And for the first time in so very long, a small part of him actually began to believe it.

Sam arrived in all his naked, wailing glory and Dean watched his younger self stare down at his new baby brother with fierce protectiveness in his young eyes and knew that John Winchester had never  _needed_  to tell Dean to look after Sam, he would have done it anyway.

He played with Mary and Sam, he laughed, he hugged his mom and his younger brother, he drew pictures and played with toy cars and showed baby Sammy all of his favourite things and Dean saw the carefree wonder reflected in his own eyes and felt unburdened.

It never even entered his mind that John Winchester did not feature in any of the moments.

And then he was four and a half and he was saying goodnight to his brother and Mary was tucking him into his bed and kissing him and whispering  _Goodnight my sweet boy, angels are watching over you_.

And then he opened his eyes.

…

Sam and Cas were staring at him; Sam in blank confusion and Cas in trepidation.

He blinked but did not speak.

"Dean?" the angel asked, nervousness jittering through the connection as he struggled to gauge Dean's reaction. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, the only thing he could think to give Dean that would truly be worthy of the man he loved, but Dean's relationship with his past was confusing at best and as time passed and Dean still did not speak, Castiel began to fear that he had made the wrong decision.

And then Dean threw himself at the angel and wrapped his arms tightly around him, burying his face in his collar and his fingers in the small feathers that lined the base of his wings and  _squeezed_.

He didn't say anything. He didn't have to, Cas could feel the gratitude overflowing through the connection and he beamed as it filled him up. Eventually Dean let go and sat back, his eyes suspiciously moist and a wide smile on his face. Sam looked bewilderingly at the two of them.

"What the hell did he do Dean?" he asked.

Castiel looked at Dean and Dean nodded, gesturing to his little brother. Cas turned and raised his hand to Sam's forehead. He flinched away and looked at Dean.

"It's alright." Dean assured, "Let him."

Sam hesitated before nodding and sitting forward. Cas touched two fingers to his head.

Dean didn't know how long he had been out and so didn't know if the fact that it only seemed to take a second for Sam was normal or because he didn't have as many years of memories to go through but regardless, within seconds, Sam was opening his eyes with a gasp and, as Castiel pulled his hand back, Dean moved forward.

"You okay Sammy?" he asked softly.

Sam's wide eyes met his and his mouth opened and closed a few times without actually making any sound. He swallowed hard and Dean could see tears rising in his hazel eyes.

"Mom." He whispered.

Dean nodded.

"Yeah, I know."

"I met mom."

Dean reached out a hand and let it rest on Sam's sweater clad back.

"Yeah." He breathed with a smile, "I know."

Sam's bottom lip trembled and his face screwed up as a sob fell from his throat and Dean pulled him into a tight hug as a torrent of tears began to fall from his brother.

Idly, he felt concern waft in from Cas but he ignored it in favour of holding his brother tight and never letting go.

And then Sam broke away from Dean's embrace and launched all six foot four inches of himself at Cas, pulling him into a bone-crunching hug.

"Thank you." He babbled, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Dean sat back and grabbed the hand Cas wasn't currently using to rub soothing circles into his brother's back, intertwining their fingers and squeezing tight.

Maybe Christmas hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What did you think?


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all I'm back!
> 
> Sorry about the mini hiatus, I almost destroyed my computer and it took a couple of weeks to fix.
> 
> I just want to say thanks to everyone who has read and favourited and alerted and reviewed this story, it's really made writing it a pleasure and thanks to Rainbow Fruit Loop for continuing to be an awesome beta.
> 
> Also I'm sorry...

Jody came for Christmas dinner bearing sweaters for everyone and an apple pie for which Dean gave her a kiss on the cheek. Introductions were made between her and the Trans, and then Cas had to proudly bring out his new pet, grinning like an idiot down at the small furry creature, which in turn also caused Dean to grin like an idiot. In fact, Sam and Dean had been grinning like idiots all day after Cas' not so little gift that morning.

 

Once the greetings were over, Jody shucked her coat and asked, "Umm, hey, is Crowley around?"

 

Sam, who was helping her out of her coat, paused and glanced at Dean who answered, "Uh, yeah, but don't worry, he won't be joining us."

 

It had been mutually agreed by all parties that Crowley would sit out the festivities.

 

"Do you mind if I speak with him?" she asked.

 

Dean frowned but shrugged.

 

"I guess not." he answered, the atmosphere tense and awkward. Little contact had been made between the former demon and the rest of the occupants of the bunker for the past few months.

 

"I will show you to his room." Castiel offered, and together they made their way out of the library.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Jody reappeared…with Crowley in tow.

 

"It's okay if he joins us, right?" she asked.

 

Dean and Sam shrugged and glanced over at Kevin, who frowned but shook his head regardless. Linda smiled and said, "Of course. The more the merrier." But even her smile was guarded and she inched imperceptibly closer to her son.

 

So everyone sat down to Christmas dinner. It was being held in the library, as that was the only place in the bunker with a big enough seating area, with Jody and Crowley at one end, Dean, Cas, and Sam in the middle, and Kevin and Linda Tran at the other. And, though the atmosphere started out tense and awkward, it soon relaxed into cheery conversation and banter with stories and laughs being shared.

 

"So, Cas, what are you going to name your new pet?" Kevin, who had been helping to take care of the guinea pig before Christmas, asked.

 

"You got a pet, Castiel? What, looking after Dean not enough for you?" Crowley's voice was teasing, but there was a lightness in his eyes that suggested to all present that it was meant in friendly terms. Cas reached into the pocket of his cardigan to retrieve the furry little animal that he had taken to carrying around with him.

 

"Yes." he beamed, stroking his fingers over the soft fur. "Dean gave him to me. Isn't he wonderful?"

 

No one could be sure whether Cas was referring to the pet or to Dean, but regardless, they all smiled at the angel's joy.

 

"So?" Jody asked. "What are you going to name him?"

 

"Yes." Cas nodded. "It is customary to name one's pets, is it not? Hmm."

 

He frowned in concentration and the table held its collective breath as all present waited for the angel to choose a name.

 

"Brian." he proclaimed finally and glanced up to find confused expressions all around.

 

"Brian?" Dean asked. "Really?"

 

Cas frowned.

 

"It is a name, is it not?"

 

"Well, yeah…but why Brian?"

 

Cas looked down at the rodent.

 

"Because that is his name." He looked back up. "Is it a bad choice?"

 

Jody shook her head.

 

"No, of course not, honey. Brian is an excellent name for your pet."

 

"Yeah." Sam agreed. "I like it. Brian the guinea pig. It suits him."

 

Cas beamed and looked at Dean.

 

"Do you like it?" he asked.

 

Dean floundered and glanced around at the expectant faces.

 

"Sure. Why not? Brian. Great name." He looked back at Cas and his exuberant expression, and felt the joy flowing through the connection and couldn't help but smile himself. "Besides, he wouldn't be a pet of yours without a name like Brian."

 

Cas frowned.

 

"What do you mean by that?"

 

Dean shook his head.

 

"Nothing." he replied, leaning in and kissing the angel softly on the lips.

 

Cas spent the rest of dinner stroking his fingers over Brian's dark fur while the rest of them feasted on the food that Dean had prepared, and laughed and drank and were merry.

 

Once dinner was over and Dean had plied Jody with dozens of complements on the pie, she found herself cleaning up in the kitchen with the former king of hell.

 

As he wiped down another plate and went to put it away in the cupboard, he cleared his throat awkwardly and turned to the sheriff.

 

"Thank you." he said softly, uncertainly.

 

She turned from the sink and smiled.

 

"No problem, I didn't really like the thought of you locked away in your room while the rest of us celebrated. Didn't seem right somehow."

 

Crowley nodded.

 

"Yes. But I wasn't talking about that." he shifted and leant back against the counter. "I was talking about your letters.

 

…

_Four months ago_

 

"I don't have plans to dispatch myself from this world anytime soon."

 

Dean nodded.

 

"Good. Cause it was hell to get the blood out of the sheets the last time."

 

Crowley stood in the center of his small room, his self-appointed prison, and stared down at the letter in his hand, concern for the elder Winchester falling to the back of his mind as he surveyed the envelope that had  _Crowley_  scrawled on it.

 

It had to be from her. They had just come from helping her. Who else would have written to him?

 

With shaking hands he opened the envelope and took out the paper.

_Crowley,_

_Thank you for your apology. I can't imagine how hard it must be carrying the weight of what you have done and I can appreciate the fact that you need to seek some kind of repentance. I don't know if I can forgive you, but I do appreciate the gesture. You were right you know, that night, even if you were playing me - we do share loss._

_I can't forgive you for what you did, not yet. But if you'd like to write or talk, I know how hard it is sometimes to find someone who will listen._

_Jody Mills_

 

Beneath her signature there was an address and a phone number.

 

He held the paper in his hand, struck by her capacity for forgiveness. This woman, whom he had barely known, whom he had tried to kill, but with whom he had still felt a connection. Because despite her assumptions, he hadn't been playing her in the restaurant (well, he had) but he hadn't needed to lie in order to do that.

 

He read and reread the letter, his heart warming ever so slightly the more his eyes skimmed over her words.

 

He sat down at his small desk and grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and a pen.

 

Maybe, just maybe, he could find some way to be okay with this new life of his.

 

…

 

"I know you can't ever forgive me. And that's all right. I don't deserve to be forgiven, I know that. But our…communication has saved me in ways you can't even understand, and for that I am truly thankful."

 

She looked at him.

 

"I liked you, you know? Before the whole trying to kill me thing." She chuckled awkwardly and Crowley bowed his head, a small smile gracing his features. She shook her head, "I don't know. Maybe I'm crazy. You used to be a demon. You were the King of Hell. And from what you've told me, you weren't that great of a human to begin with." Crowley nodded, his stomach tightening, the weight of everything he had done over the past few centuries pressing down on him, "But you're here now. And you've been given a second chance." Her throat constricted as she spoke and her eyes took on a glassy sheen. "I know about second chances. I know how rare and precious and fleeting they are. So I'm not going to beat about the bush."

 

She stepped forward and pressed a kiss to his lips.

 

"Merry Christmas, Crowley." She murmured.

 

…

 

It had been a month since Christmas, a month since he'd seen Cas, when Dean woke to the feeling of someone hovering over him as he slept. Before he was even fully aware of his movements, he had grabbed the knife that lay under his pillow at all times and had brought it to the throat of whomever thought sneaking up on him while he was sleeping was a good idea. The bedside lamp switched on and Castiel's calm blue eyes stared back at him.

 

"Happy birthday, Dean." the angel greeted, apparently not bothered by the blade at his throat.

 

"What? Cas? Wha—what are you doing here?"

 

Castiel continued to stare.

 

"It is your birthday. I wished to surprise you."

 

Dean sat confused for a moment, his brain still in the process of waking up.

 

"Well, congratulations. It worked." His eyes were barely open and his voice was still rough from sleep. Idly he realized he was still holding the knife to his boyfriend's neck and he removed it. "You should know better than to sneak up on me while I'm sleeping. I could have really hurt you."

 

Castiel snorted, a curiously human sound that Dean blinked at, as he shucked his overcoat and suit jacket and shoes and crawled into bed with Dean. "You could not have hurt me with that, Dean." he said, glancing down at Ruby's demon killing knife. "Or do you not recall the night of our first meeting?"

 

"How could I forget?" Dean commented as he settled his head against Cas' chest, the angel sitting against the headboard. "You barely flinched at the rock salt rounds Bobby and I shot at you. You made the lights go haywire. You were the least human thing I'd ever seen."

 

"I was very different then." Cas agreed, wrapping his arms around the warm body that lay half on top of him, "I don't think you fully comprehend the profound affect you have had on my existence."

 

Dean laughed humourlessly.

 

"Yeah. Between the den of iniquity I dragged you to and the fact that I made you rebel against your own kind I can imagine I had a pretty profound affect on you."

 

Cas shifted, bringing his hand away from Dean's side and up to cup his face, moving so he could look down into the hunter's verdant eyes. His expression was twisted in sadness.

 

"First of all, Dean, you did not force me to do anything I was not already fully prepared to do on my own." He glanced away. "In fact, if you had not been there to 'pull my head out of my ass' as I'm sure you would so eloquently say, I fear I may have ended up making choices I would not be able to live with."

 

He glanced back up at Dean and stroked a thumb over the faint lines that crinkled around his eyes when he smiled.

 

"Do not think for one moment that the affect you have had on me has been anything other than positive."

 

Dean could feel the truth of the words flowing through the connection with the angel and he found himself unable to answer as his throat closed up with emotion. Instead he merely nodded and laid his head back down on Cas' chest, allowing himself to drift as strong hands carded tenderly through his hair and Cas' heart beat out vibrations that shuddered through him.

 

"How's the rebellion going?" he asked after an unknowable period of comfortable silence.

 

"It is…going." The angel answered enigmatically. "We are growing in numbers, but…"

 

He trailed off and Dean felt uncertainty flow into him.

 

"But what?" he asked, opening his eyes and shifting so he could look up at Cas, who shook his head and looked away.

 

"I want this war to be over. I don't want to be the leader they expect me to be."

 

"Isn't it better than the alternative though?" Dean offered. "At least your intentions are good and peaceful."

 

Cas looked down at him.

 

"But what if that's not enough? What if I lose control? What if—"

 

Dean shut him up with a kiss.

 

"You're not going to turn into who you were when you tried to play God." he assured him.

 

Castiel's eyes shone with a fear that told Dean he'd been right on the mark.

 

"How can you be so sure?" he whispered, fear spiking through the connection.

 

"Because this time you have me." Dean said simply, but with conviction. "And I'm not gonna let that happen."

 

They lay in silence for a while after that, Dean dozing in and out of consciousness, Castiel ruminating over Dean's promise.

 

He really was a wonder, Dean Winchester. So quick to jump in with words of encouragement for those he loved and yet so resistant to accepting those same words when they were directed back at him.

 

As he stroked his fingers and thumb lightly up Dean's arm, he could feel the heat of the body pressed up against him. He could feel the life-giving breath as it rushed in and out of his lungs. The arms that he had wrapped around Dean tightened on their own accord and his oft-repeated promise to Dean came back to him.

_I will make sure you know you are loved and that you are worthy of that love._

_I will never leave you._

 

Once again, the cruel hand of fate had forced them apart but Castiel held firm to the faith he had in them. There would come a day soon when Castiel would come back with no intention of ever leaving. Of that he was certain.

 

…

 

"Dean."

 

Castiel's low voice pierced through the groggy veil of shallow sleep that Dean was drifting in, and he murmured an involuntary answer, brain bypassing his conscious mind, which was still very much asleep.

 

"Dean."

 

He shifted and opened his eyes.

 

"Mmmm…Cas?"

 

His voice was rough from sleep and he cleared it.

 

"Hello, Dean."

 

A laugh rumbled out of the drowsy hunter.

 

"Hey yourself, Cas."

 

He sat up and back against the pillows, yawning and stretching, rubbing his hands down his face. He looked over at the angel reclining beside him. Dean reached out a hand and carded it through the soft hair that sat in its usual mussed fashion atop his head.

 

"So nice to have you here." he whispered, tipping forward to press his lips to the angel's.

 

They kissed long and hard, tongues dancing and hands clutching desperately at clothes as Cas pushed Dean back against the bed. He kissed a line along Dean's jaw to his neck and mouthed at the pulse point, which was now racing.

 

"I want to give you something." Cas whispered, his breath tickling Dean's ear and his low voice rumbling in pleasurable vibrations through Dean's chest where Cas lay. "For your birthday." he added.

 

Cas was so socially awkward that it was often difficult to tell when he was doing something because he meant to, and when he hit on something accidentally. Dean figured regardless of how he got there, the result was fucking hot as hell.

 

He smiled and rubbed his hand up Cas' back and along the sinuous hide of his wings.

 

"Oh yeah?" he asked. A shock of anxiety spiked through him at the thought that this might be something he was not entirely prepared for but he shut it down quickly. He wasn't going there. Not today.

 

Cas did not reply but instead pulled back and smiled. He tugged Dean's soft, cotton, stones t-shirt up and began kissing a path down Dean's chest, stopping in places when Dean's involuntary moans told him he had lit on a particularly sensitive spot.

 

When he reached the low riding waistband of the boxers Dean had worn to bed, he peppered light kisses along his hip bones, eliciting a wrecked moan from Dean as he shifted, bringing his knees up on either side on Cas' body and tangling his fingers in Cas' soft, unmanageable hair.

 

Cas smiled and dipped lower; fanning his breath over the thin layer of cotton that separated him from Dean's ever growing interest and Dean keened and panted above him.

 

"Fuck, Cas." he breathed as his fingers twisted and clutched at the hair in his grasp.

 

Castiel reached up and took one of Dean's insistent hands, gripping it tight as he looked up at the expression of pleasure on the hunter's face.

 

"You let me know if you need me to stop, okay?"

 

Dean gulped at the adoration he could see in the angel's striking blue eyes and nodded.

 

Cas smiled.

 

"Happy Birthday, Dean."

 

He tugged Dean free of the constricting undergarment and licked a line from the base to the tip, swirling his tongue like he had been taught to do by the internet before taking Dean whole, bearing down and surrounding him with warmth.

 

Dean moaned.

 

He could think of nothing but the heat surrounding him and the sensations raging through him as Castiel did things with his mouth Dean hadn't thought he could even conceive. Cas had always been fairly conservative when it came to sex, probably a combination of eons living as a mostly sexless being coupled with concern for Dean's emotional and mental state.

 

But this…this was all manner of hot.

 

He raised himself up to glance down at the angel who had an intense look of concentration on his face as he ministered to Dean. Worshiped him, in a way.

 

A jolt of uncertainly shot through him, warring with the pleasure that was singing in his blood, and a memory came, unbidden, into his mind.

 

It was one of the memories he usually kept under lock and key in the very back of his mind, buried beneath layers of repressed emotion and borderline alcoholism. But now it surfaced and he tried to hold it back, tried to push it down to where it belonged, lost and forgotten. But it was no use.

 

He looked down at the reverence with which Castiel was performing the deed. This was submission, this was vulnerability, this was love.

_You don't deserve to be loved._

 

He shut his eyes, trying to stave off the panic that was setting in.

_Yes I do_ , he argued with the voice,  _Cas loves me. I earned that, I deserve it._

_But he doesn't know everything does he? He knows what your father did to you but he doesn't know what you did? What would he think if he knew? Would he still love you?_

 

Dean wanted to assure the voice that yes, Cas would still love him. But doubt had sunk its devilish claws in and the memory was playing full force in his mind and he just couldn't shut it off.

 

And then the panic came.

 

He tried to control it, tried to breathe the way Cas had shown him, but the panic was rising and the memory was taking over and he could feel the shame and self-hatred flood in until he felt like he was drowning in it.

 

Vaguely, he could hear Cas calling his name. Strong hands gripped his shoulders and he acted instinctively, shoving them off and scrambling off the bed, hurriedly pulling his boxers up and his shirt down. He could feel his whole body shaking and he wrapped his arms around himself in an effort to contain the treacherous movements that belayed his fear.

 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He could hear himself babbling and he was vaguely aware of Cas responding in his understanding tones, apologizing and telling him everything would be fine.

 

But he didn't know. So Dean ran.

 

…

 

Sam was in the library, filling the journal Dean had given him for Christmas with information garnered from the men of letter's vast repository, when the sound of bare feet on the marble floor of the bunker heralded the arrival of his brother, who burst into the main atrium with a look of blind anxiety in his eyes.

 

"Dean!"

 

His brother jumped at the sound and glanced over at Sam, breathing erratic and on the wrong side of panicking.

 

Sam stepped forward slowly, his hands held out in a gesture of peace.

 

"Dean."

 

Dean was hyperventilating now, having backed himself into a corner and slowly sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, fingers tangling painfully in his hair as he buried his head in his knees.

 

Cas appeared a few seconds later, sliding to a halt in his stocking feet, a look of devastation on his face.

 

"Dean." he breathed at the sight of the distressed hunter. He exchanged glances with Sam who, though he desperately wanted to know what had sparked the panic attack, knew he needed to get Dean calmed down first.

 

And things had been going so well.

 

"Dean." Sam said softly as he approached his brother slowly, "Are you all right?"

 

Dean was shaking and whimpering in his corner and giving no sign of response.

 

Sam was at Dean's side now, kneeling on the floor with Cas looking on, arms twisted round his body in concern.

 

"Dean." Sam reached out a hand to lie gently on his brother's shoulder, settling there. Dean jolted at the contact but made no move to get away or shrug it off. Sam took that as a good sign. "Dean?"

 

He could hear Dean's shuddering breaths as he fought to get himself under control. Cas lowered himself to the ground a few feet away, trying not to crowd the panicking man and trying to figure out where he had gone wrong.

 

It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. A totally submissive act, free from aggression, anything that might trigger Dean. He had gone slow, given him time to adjust, to understand exactly what Cas was willing to do for him, wanted to do for him.

 

Perhaps he had not made himself clear. Perhaps it had been too much. Perhaps Dean perceived it as something that was expected to be requited.

 

Regardless of the reasons, clearly Cas' decision had been the wrong one, and who knew how much damage he had inflicted. He sat and listened to Dean struggling to control his breathing and the pitiful sounds of distress that sounded involuntarily from him, and hoped that they had not just taken two steps back.

 

Eventually, Dean got himself under control enough to raise his head and wipe away the tears that reddened his eyes and dulled the colour. He sniffed and ducked his head and the panic that had flooded the connection gave way to hot shame.

 

"Dean, there is nothing to be embarrassed about." Cas said, moving forward but still keeping a safe distance so as not to overwhelm him.

 

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and covered them with his fingers, resting his elbow on his bent knee and letting out a self-deprecating, humourless laugh.

 

"I'm sorry, Cas." he whispered. Cas could hear the thickness in his voice that mean he was attempting to speak around a lump, and he sighed.

 

"You guys maybe wanna tell me what just happened?"

 

Sam was looking murderously at Cas, clearly assuming the fault lay with him. Cas couldn't fault him for the assumption.

 

Castiel opened his mouth to speak but Dean beat him to it.

 

"Cas was doing something nice for me and I fell apart—" he cut off, his words stolen by the lump in his throat that was growing by the minute.

 

"Dean, it was my fault. I should have been paying more attention to you, I should not have—"

 

"Don't." His voice was quiet, tired, "Please don't think this had anything to do with you." He looked up, attempting a smile through the devastation still sitting plain on his face, "It was nice, up until…"

 

He trailed off and his gaze fell to his hands which were fiddling with his nails.

 

"Up until what?" Sam didn't know what had lead to it but he was determined to get his brother to talk about it. Long gone were the days when he'd let Dean bury his feelings, they had fled the day three years ago when Dean had broken down by the side of the road and confessed the horrors John had put him through.

 

Dean sighed and shook his head.

 

"It's not—"

 

"Don't you dare, Dean."

 

Dean looked up at his brother and then over at Cas, gauging the fear he saw in their eyes. Fear for him. He could feel sadness and love and protectiveness seeping in from the angel and he desperately wanted to open himself up to it. It was heaven basking in those emotions, but what if they went away? What if after he told them, Cas didn't feel that way about him? Sure Cas had promised to always love him, to always be there for him, but he didn't know the whole story.

 

Cas frowned at the guilt and insecurity pouring out of Dean, his hatred and disgust directed inward at himself. He moved forward.

 

"Dean." He filled his voice with as much grace as he could muster without blowing the lights. "Nothing you say can change the way I feel about you."

 

Dean gulped at the power he heard in the angel's voice, but the voices inside his head were still louder.

 

"You can't promise me that." he said softly. "You don't know. You have no idea."

 

"Tell us, Dean." Sam pleaded. "Cas is right, nothing you say can change how much we love you."

 

It was almost a challenge, Dean thought, to get Dean to spill the story so he could prove them wrong, and it was almost working. And yet Dean couldn't help picturing the look of disgust in his brother's eyes that he knew he would see there when Sam finally learned that Dean wasn't an innocent victim. That he had, in fact, deserved everything he had got.

 

He sighed, exhaustion creeping into his bones. He may as well tell. At least then everything would be out in the open.

 

"Remember when you were twelve? Living in Michigan? Dad left us in a crappy motel in November, promising to be back in a few weeks? 'Cept he was gone more than a month, and it was starting to get cold. You were hitting your first growth spurt and you eating like crazy. Always so hungry. The money was running out quick. And Dad…one hunt had overlapped the next and he couldn't get back to us in time.

 

"Eventually I called him, asking him to send money. He'd only paid up to the end of the month and already it was a week into December and the landlord was getting angry. Dad told me I should get it myself. That I needed to start acting like a man. Pulling my weight. I asked him how he expected me to get the money when I was still underage, and he said…he said I had pretty mouth and an appetite to match so maybe I should put it to good use.

 

"It was getting so cold and you were so hungry and I…I tried hustling some pool. Anywhere they'd let me in with my crappy fake ID, but there still wasn't enough for rent and food so I went to the motel manager. Ugly overweight guy who smelled like cheese and BO, and I begged him to let us say. Threw every sob story I could think of at him. But he wouldn't bite. So finally I…I said I'd do anything. Anything. And he got this look in his eyes, this self-satisfied smirk, like he'd got me. Like he was better than me and he knew it. And then he sat back and undid his pants. He gave us a whole month rent-free, and every night I went to bed feeling dirty and sick to my stomach. And I knew I had no one to blame but myself."

 

He looked up into the stony faces of his brother and angel.

 

"So how about now?" he asked, fatigue creeping into his voice and every part of his being. "You still think I was innocent in all this? That I deserve your love? Your pity? Dad was right. Dad was always right. I'm only good for one thing. And apparently I can't even do that right."

 

Dean buried his face in his hands not wanting to see the looks of disgust on the   
faces of the two people who meant the most to him.

 

And then he was surrounded by warmth, two strong arms encircling him. Sam's long hair tickled his cheek as his brother pulled him in tight.

 

"You're an idiot, you know that? An idiot if you think any of that was your fault."

 

"Sam, I was the one who—"

 

"Only because you didn't have a choice." Sam pulled back and grabbed hold of Dean's shoulders, staring him plain in the eye. "You're too good and selfless a person to let your little brother go cold and hungry. You have sacrificed so much for me, even when I wasn't even asking you to. You're a good person and you deserve all the love you can get and don't you let anyone, including yourself, tell you otherwise."

 

Dean didn't have any words. He just stared back at Sam with eyes dulled by the memory. Sam didn't say anything else, just moved aside so Cas could settle down in front of him. He didn't say anything either, just pulled the hunter forward, wrapping his arms and then his wings around the silent man. And then he opened his mind and flooded Dean once again with the immeasurable wealth of feeling he had for the hunter. The love and devotion, the fondness and tenderness, the lust and passion and respect.

 

Dean struggled against the grip but Cas held fast and he struggled against the emotions pouring in but Cas kept them coming. He could do it forever, there was no limit to how he felt about the man, no end to the love he had for him. It was an absolute and Castiel was determined that Dean would come to understand that. Nothing could take that away. Nothing.

 

…

 

Dean shivered and pulled his arms closer in to his body, boots crunching over snow as he trudged deeper into the woods.

 

"Why the hell are we out here anyway?" he asked, breath puffing out in white clouds of vapour in the frigid Kansas winter air.

 

"Because Cas suggested it and you're whipped."

 

"I'm not whipped!"

 

"Dude, you're so whipped!"

 

Dean grumbled but didn't argue any further.

 

After the events of that morning, Dean had been rather subdued, lounging around and watching Die Hard with Cas until the angel had announced that he was making dinner and that maybe it would do Dean some good to go out and get some fresh air. Some fucking freezing fresh air.

 

They walked for a while in silence, the snow dampening the ambient nose, forcing a hush on the surroundings.

 

Eventually though, Sam cleared his throat.

 

"About this morning…" he began.

 

"Don't want to talk about it." Dean answered curtly, continuing on though Sam had stopped.

 

"Dean—"

 

"Said I don't want to talk about it." Dean repeated, stopping and turning.

 

Sam sighed.

 

"I'm sor—"

 

"God dammnit Sam, if you say you're sorry, I will punch you in your face."

 

There were tears in the younger hunter's eyes as he looked at his big brother, so strong in some way and so very weak in others.

 

Dean stalked back and let out an acquiescent sigh.

 

"This ain't your fault."

 

Sam swallowed hard.

 

"But if it hadn't been for me, mom would still be here and none of this would have happened."

 

"First of all, her death wasn't your doing. Second of all, even if she'd lived there's no guarantee things would have turned out for the better. Maybe Mom and Dad's marriage would have broken up. Maybe he would still have become the bitter, obsessive, drunk he turned into. Maybe he still would have walked in on me macking on some guy. Except I wouldn't have had my little brother to turn to. Then where would I be?"

 

Sam smiled softly at Dean's words and Dean let out a heavy sigh.

 

"As for what I told you today…" he paused and shook his head, "I don't really know how I feel about that yet. It's not something I like to think about all that much, or at all. And I still can't really understand how you and Cas can be fine with it." He sighed again, shoulder's slumping and eyes tired. "Let's just celebrate my birthday and enjoy this fucking beautiful, fucking freezing nature walk."

 

He turned then, giving Sam no time to reply and stalked off.

 

"Dean."

 

Dean stopped, pausing for a moment before turning.

 

"What?" he asked, impatience rife in his tone.

 

"Was that the only time?"

 

Silence reined as the two brothers stared at each other.

 

"No." he answered eventually.

 

They stared for a beat more until Dean turned away and trudged off.

 

Sam huffed a little and then grinned wide and mischievous, bending down and packing some snow into a perfect, spherical ball.

 

It was a direct hit, exploding into powder upon impact with the back of Dean's head, and some even managed to slip down the back of Dean's jacket as he turned and stared at his little brother, before ducking and gathering a snowball of his own.

 

Oh, it was so on.

 

…

 

When they got back, red-faced and panting from their impromptu snowball war, it was to the smell of freshly baked pie, which seemed to banish all remnants of that morning's events with its aroma. Dean yammered on through dinner and dessert about how amazing and awesome it was that he had a boyfriend who would bake pie for him.

 

Later on, as they lay in the semi-darkness of their room, Castiel spoke.

 

"I'm sorry, Dean."

 

Dean looked round at him.

 

"For what?"

 

"For pushing you this morning. It was wrong of me to just assume you would be okay with—"

 

"Cas, I was okay with it. Hell, I was more than okay with it, are you kidding?" he stopped speaking and stared into Castiel's earnest eyes, "I should be the one apologizing. If I weren't such an emotional mess—"

 

"Don't ever apologize for that." Castiel's voice was stern and laced with barely contained rage.

 

"How can you stand it though?" he asked, true confusion evident in his voice.

 

"Stand what?"

 

"Me. After what I told you, what I've done. How can you stand to be near me?"

 

Castiel's smile was sad as he brushed his thumb across Dean's cheek.

 

"Because I know you. I've seen your soul, remember? I've seen the truth of you."

 

"But I still did it."

 

"And I killed thousands during my time as God. Does that change how you feel about me?"

 

Dean opened his mouth to argue but could find nothing to say.

 

"You told me that the thing that killed all those people wasn't me. Do you believe that?"

 

"Of course."

 

"Why?"

 

Dean frowned in thought.

 

"Because you were possessed by the souls from purgatory."

 

"They gave me power and swayed my mind, just as your father's words and that other man's actions swayed yours, but that does not mean that either of us wanted it to happen. I know that at the time I enjoyed the power flowing through my veins. But looking back on it now, it makes me sick to think that I was ever capable of such deeds and that is what matters most."

 

Dean had ducked his head, and Cas reached out a hand to lift his head.

 

"Did you want to do what you did, Dean?"

 

Dean bit his lip and shook his head.

 

"Then how could you think I would hate you for it? Even if you had wanted that, it would not change how I feel about you. Nothing will ever change that."

 

He leaned forwards and placed a chaste kiss on the hunter's lips.

 

"Happy Birthday, Dean. I love you."

 

They lay in silence for a while before Dean spoke up.

 

"Hey, Cas."

 

"Yes, Dean?"

 

"When's your birthday?"

 

"I was created before the concept of days had been invented."

 

"…oh."

 

Cas shifted, trying to gauge Dean's confused reaction.

 

"What?"

 

Dean sat up and back against the pillows.

 

"Nothing. Just, sometimes I forget how old you are."

 

Cas chuckled.

 

"By your standards perhaps. By angel standards I am considered young and reckless."

 

Dean smiled.

 

"You should still have a birthday though, so I can make you pie."

 

Castiel frowned in concentration.

 

"September 18th." he answered finally.

 

It was Dean's turn to frown.

 

"Why that date?"

 

Cas fixed his gaze on Dean's

 

"Because that was the first day we met. The day I raised you from hell. That was the beginning of my new life."

 

Dean averted his eyes.

 

"The beginning of your fall, you mean?"

 

Cas reached out a hand, cupping Dean's chin and raising it.

 

"If I had it to do all over again, I would not change a thing. For you Dean Winchester, I would fall every time."

 

Dean struggled under the weight of the genuine love he could see and feel radiating from the angel. He frowned and shook his head.

 

"How did I get so lucky? What did I do to deserve you?"

 

Cas smiled wryly.

 

"I am not a prize to be won, Dean. You did not have to do anything. All you had to do was be yourself. When will you finally realize that that is enough?"

 

Dean's face coloured and he tipped forward, nestling into the angel's side, trying to push aside the niggling doubts and insecurities that threatened to flood in at any moment.

 

"Maybe someday, Cas. Maybe someday."

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter spans 9x21 and 9x22. I try to do all I can to incorporate the actual storyline from the episode into the chapters I write but sometimes it begins to feel dull and dragging. If you are reading this and you haven't watched the episodes in question, please don't get angry at me if it doesn't make sense to you, I operate under the assumption that either my readers are familiar with the episode storyline or that they care more about the interactions between Dean and Cas and less about the plot.
> 
> That being said, I hope this chapter makes sense and that you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it.
> 
> And as always huge thanks to Rainbow Fruit loop for Betaing.
> 
> Merry Christmas!

Dean and Sam were finishing up a job in Chicago when Cas called about a possible lead on Metatron.

 

It had been two months since Dean's birthday and in all that time, Dean had seen the angel only a handful of times, and it was beginning to take its toll. If it hadn't been for the connection he still felt with the angel, Dean didn't know how he would have survived. As it was, he was itching to get his boyfriend back in his sights and his grasp - the emotions coming from the angel as of late had him worried as Castiel grew more and more stressed and exhausted. The six-hour drive from Chicago to Cas' hideout in Missouri seemed to stretch on for infinity.

 

It had been a lonely few months, and not just because of Castiel's absence. Kevin and Linda had left not long after Christmas explaining that, because the tablets were gone and Kevin was all but useless to them, they planned to leave for rest and healing. Dean and Sam had gotten them set up with as many protection spells and sigils as they could think of and left the prophet and his mother to their own devices.

 

Crowley too had gone. Off to stay with Jody and Alex, a young girl Jody had taken under her wing after she'd escaped a cultish vampire clan with whom she had been living most of her life after being kidnapped as a child. Crowley had begged to be allowed to tag along after he caught wind of the sheriff's plea for help and they'd relented, only to discover that the two had been in contact ever since the holidays and had bonded somewhat over mutual loss.

 

Dean still couldn't quite understand how Jody could forgive the guy who had tried to kill her, but then again, Cas had tried to kill _him_ on more than one occasion, so perhaps he couldn't judge too harshly.

 

Regardless, the bunker now felt vast and empty. It used to be that all that was needed for a place to feel like home was his brother, himself, and the safety of the Impala, but somewhere along the line Dean had managed to eke out a little piece of home for himself. Unfortunately, it seemed almost everyone who'd once fit there was now gone.

 

They pulled up in front of a large complex and were greeted at the door by a young angel who stated in very formal tones that, "If you'll follow me, the commander will see you now."

 

"Commander?" Dean murmured to his brother as they followed the angel sentry in. The title didn't seem very Cas-like. But he held his tongue and made his way into the bowels of the bunker.

 

The operation seemed very…efficient, with phones and maps and people – angels – milling about, working hard. Dean had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that Castiel was in charge of all this. As they neared the office, Dean could sense the presence that was inside, and the angel who'd brought them barely had time for the curt "Sir" he greeted Castiel with, before Castiel had spun around and launched himself into Dean's arms.

 

"Hey." Dean greeted with a chuckle as he wrapped his arms around the angel. "I missed you too."

 

"It's been too long, Dean." Cas sighed, burying his face in the crook of Dean's neck and squeezing harder.

 

"Yeah, I know." Dean said softly, rubbing circles in the angel's back and closing his eyes, drinking in the feeling of having him here, physically, in his grasp.

 

They pulled away and shared a quick kiss that was far too short for either of their liking before Cas turned and pulled Sam into a tight hug, and Dean took the chance to have a look around the office. Surveillance photos all but covered a large cork-board on the far wall, but they were interspersed at intervals with pictures of himself and Sam and occasionally Kevin and Linda and Jody and even Crowley. Cas had gone a little overboard at Christmas with Sam's gift and the results stared back at him now. He smiled and ran his fingers over one of himself and Castiel that Sam had taken: Dean smiling at the camera while Cas kissed him on the cheek. As he looked over the pictures, he glanced down to find Brian the guinea pig rustling around in his cage, looking healthy and well cared for.

 

At least Cas wasn't totally alone here.

 

The angel who'd brought them lingered awkwardly in the doorway as Cas pulled back from his hug with Sam and turned to him.

 

"Umm, dismissed." Cas ordered uncomfortably and Dean had to smile at the waves of discomfort that radiated from the angel. "He can be a little stuffy." He explained once the angel had gone.

 

"So… _Commander_." Dean teased, a smile playing at his lips.

 

Sure enough Castiel grimaced at the title and a bitter feeling of distaste accompanied it. "Yeah," he confirmed with a shrug, "not my idea. They had no leader, and they insisted on following me."

 

"Yeah. No, we get it. You're a rock star." Dean smirked, having way too much fun teasing his boyfriend over his new found station.

 

"Bartholomew is dead." Cas explained. "Malachi was murdered by Gadreel, and with Metatron as powerful as he is now, I needed to do something."

 

Sam spoke up from where he was glancing out of the shutters that obscured the windows of his office. "So this war between the angels is really gonna happen, huh?"

 

"Not if I can find a diplomatic option for getting rid of Metatron." Cas answered.

 

"Good luck with that." Dean scoffed.

 

Cas glared, ire rising. "Dean, this angel-on-angel violence, it has to end. Someone has to say enough."

 

"And that someone is you?" Sam asked rhetorically.

 

"That brings me to why you're here. We have a prisoner. It's an angel from Metatron's inner circle. I need to know what they're planning, but so far, he's revealed nothing."

 

"So, you're done with the rough stuff, and you want us to be your goons?" Dean raised his eyebrows; surprised that Cas would ask him, considering what had happened the last time the angel had asked Dean to torture information out of someone.

 

Cas seemed to be uncomfortably aware of what he was asking of Dean.

 

"Well, you've had success at these situations before." He fixed Dean with his penetrating gaze. "If you don't want to do it, I understand."

 

Dean grinned - a chance to get back at one of Metatron's thugs for all the grief he'd put Castiel through? Fo continuing to keep Castiel away from Dean? Vindictive pleasure rose unbidden in his chest.

 

"Who says I don't want to do it?"

 

…

 

As it turned out 'Ezra' was about as far from Gadreel as it was possible to be where Metatron's minions were concerned. The angel was a certified idiot and Dean honestly felt a little bad for the guy.

 

Not really. He was a spineless patsy and Dean was all too happy to take him down.

 

"You're wasting your time. I have nothing to say." The prisoner proclaimed with false confidence.

 

Dean's grin was feral. "We disagree."

 

"There's no use torturing me. I am a trained commando. It won't work."

 

Dean's ire rose. He hadn't seen Cas in over a month, hadn't had any meaningful contact in even longer, and the feelings coming from the angel had been steadily declining ever since Christmas. Not to mention the events of his ill-fated birthday. He was tired, he was frustrated, and he was so fucking done with idiots trying to play with the big boys. Metatron was bad enough, but this guy?

 

"Wow. Well, you just asked me to dance." Before he even really knew what was happening, Dean had reached out with one hand and grabbed the angel by the chin, hefting an angel blade in the other.

 

"Dean!"

 

Sam's voice rang out from somewhere behind him and he stopped.

 

"Dean."

 

He turned and Sam gestured him over. Dean sent the prisoner a hard glare before moving over to the other side of the room.

 

"He won't be telling us anything dead." Sam reasoned. He threw a sidelong glance at the captive angel and then sent Dean a look that said he was about to try a new tactic and that he wanted Dean to play along.

 

_Fine Sammy,_ Dean thought, _we'll try it your way._

 

Fortunately, Sam's plan did yield results, like the fact that Metatron had a private, backdoor portal into heaven that moved around and that only he could control.

 

Unfortunately, someone got to Ezra before they could learn any more, and the angel was found dead in his cell.

 

"It's unbelievable." Sam commented later on as he and Dean sat in Castiel's office, "I mean, he was fine when we left him."

 

"I barely touched the guy." Dean added.

 

"Still shackled, no weapon." Sam continued, "It wasn't suicide."

 

"No." Castiel agreed, anger and pain seeping into Dean; anger at the thought of there being a traitor in his organization and pain at yet another death. "This was an angel kill."

 

"Okay." Dean said, standing and moving closer to Cas. "Well, I'm gonna say it. Maybe your operation's been hacked, you know? Metatron's got somebody on the inside." Dean didn't like suggesting it, but years of investigations had taught him to keep an open mind about all possibilities.

 

Cas sighed.

 

"I was sure everyone here was loyal. Finally united by a common cause."

 

Dean grimaced at the betrayal he could hear in the angel's voice and feel through the connection with his mind. He pulled Cas into a one-armed embrace.

 

"Well, that's the problem." he said, trying to make light of the situation as he planted a kiss on the angel's dark hair. "See, you don't think anybody's lying. I think everybody's lying. It's a gift." He pulled back, keeping one arm slung over Cas' shoulders and turned to Sam. "Let's do some nosin' around."

 

He clapped the angel on the back and walked off. Sam moved to follow but turned back.

 

"You know, Cas." The angel glanced up at the younger Winchester, eyes dulled by the news and the weight of a possible traitor, "I spent some time alone with Gadreel when Metatron had you and Dean was searching for you. I…I kind of got the sense that he feels…misunderstood. Like he has unfinished business."

 

"Sam, he is working with Metatron. Killing for Metatron. He cannot be trusted."

 

"Not to be too harsh, but so did you."

 

Cas looked away and Sam sighed.

 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to dredge up unpleasant memories, but maybe Gadreel just wants what we want. The end this war, to save heaven, except that he's been duped by Metatron the way you were."

 

Cas looked thoughtful.

 

"So what do you propose?"

 

"Talk to him." the hunter suggested, "Reason with him. See if you can instil some doubt in his loyalty to Metatron." 

 

 

…

 

 

Castiel looked up at the sound of footsteps. After speaking with Sam, he had taken the younger hunter's advice and arranged a meeting with Gadreel. Gadreel who was currently being escorted towards him by one of the angels from his organization. He stood to face him.

 

They spoke, Castiel pleading his case and Gadreel listening with more than an ounce of scepticism.

 

Unfortunately, before he could convince him otherwise, they were ambushed by assassins sent by Metatron and Gadreel was lost in the fray.

 

Dean was on him the minute he returned, fussing over him while Sam looked on amused.

 

"Are you alright? I felt fear. And adrenaline. Were you attacked? You were attacked, weren't you?"

 

Cas sighed and rested his hands on Dean's shoulders in an effort to calm him.

 

"Yes, we were attacked. And I am fine. Dean!" He slipped an echo of his true voice into the name, which was enough to shock the hunter out of his panic. "I am fine."

 

Dean stared a few seconds more before breathing and relaxing.

 

"I knew we shouldn't have trusted that guy." he murmured.

 

Cas shook his head.

 

"I do not believe he knew of the ambush."

 

Dean looked round with disbelief in his expression.

 

"Seriously?" His voice was so full of disdain that Cas was forced to glare at him.

 

Dean rolled his eyes and looked away.

 

"Whatever. So, what's the plan now?"

 

"Gadreel wishes for us to meet. Again."

 

Dean stood and faced Cas.

 

"You're not seriously gonna give him another chance!"

 

"Why not, Dean? How many second chances have I been given? Or Sam? Or you? If I am going to end this—this civil war between angels without further bloodshed, then I need to explore every option!"

 

Pain and anger and grief coursed through the bond from Cas, and Dean felt like an asshole as he looked, really looked at the state his partner was in. Cas was tired. He didn't even need a direct link with the guy's brain to know that much, he could see it in the bags under his eyes and the droop of his wings. He was exhausted. And he was worried. For his brothers and sisters, for the fate of his home and his race. And he was grieving for the loss of the home he remembered. And he was missing Dean.

 

Dean reached out and pulled the angel forward, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tightly.

 

_I'm sorry Cas._

 

The thought seemed loud amongst the dull grey feelings and emotions that weighed down Castiel's mind, and the angel sighed and relaxed into Dean's embrace, burying his face in the familiar scent that he missed more than he thought possible.

 

_Thank you Dean._

 

Castiel did end up meeting with Gadreel, and Sam and Dean headed back to the bunker so Cas could focus on his mission and, whenever he could, Cas would visit Dean in his dreams and that would have to be enough, for now.

 

…

 

A week after they had left Cas at his super secret headquarters in Missouri, Sam was startled awake by rock music blaring very, very loudly from somewhere very, very close. His heart leapt to attention and his gun was in his hand and cocked before he even had a chance to think, let alone determine who the hell was in his room.

 

Turns out it was Dean, who smirked and pulled his phone back, tapping it quiet.

 

"Nice reflexes." he complimented. "Better hair."

 

Sam stared groggily up at his big brother, brain still half asleep.

 

"What's wrong with you? I could have shot you." He glanced down at his watch and nearly groaned at the time. "Why aren't you sleeping? We got in like two hours ago."

 

They had been hunting, at Dean's insistence, nearly nonstop since Dean's birthday and Sam was beginning to feel the effects. Dean on the other hand didn't seem too perturbed.

 

"Not tired." he answered curtly. "And we got work to do, so put on your dancing shoes and let's boogie."

 

Sam groaned and fell back against his pillows as Dean exited. His big brother had been working himself to the bone trying to keep his mind off of Cas and his mission and the events of his birthday. According to Dean, the angel had been growing more and more stressed and exhausted as he built up his army of resisters against Metatron. Since his brother and the angel had undergone a mind meld or whatever the fuck had happened, Dean too had been pissy and not sleeping, quick to anger and moody as hell.

 

He'd also clammed up about what he'd revealed the morning he'd come stumbling, in the midst of a full panic attack, from his room the day of his birthday. No matter how much Sam pushed and questioned, Dean refused to talk about it any further. As far as he was concerned, the issue had been dealt with and no longer needed to be discussed.

 

Sam disagreed.

 

It was one thing for Dean to be dealing with being hurt by someone else, but dealing with something he'd done himself…Sam had been there for the fallout of what Dean had done in hell, the self-loathing and hatred that clung to him even now, years later. He needed to find a way to convince Dean that what had happened wasn't his fault. But with Cas gone and Dean spending every waking moment either hunting or looking for a hunt, and stubbornly refusing to listen to any of Sam's words on the subject, the atmosphere between the two brothers had been steadily declining.

 

He sighed. The sooner this war was over, the sooner Cas and Dean could go back to their ridiculously lovey-dovey relationship and the sooner Sam could have some peace and maybe, just maybe, he could work on helping to heal his emotionally traumatized brother.

 

Like that was ever likely to happen given the lives they lead.

 

When he finally got to the library, showered and working on a cup of coffee, Dean was already nearly packed.

 

"All right. What's up?" he asked.

 

Dean looked up from where he was stuffing cloths into his old, worn out duffle.

 

"I called Cas. He said there's something going down in Missouri."

 

Sam frowned.

 

"What kind of something?"

 

Dean shrugged.

 

"He said he couldn't talk about it over the phone."

 

"Why?" he asked wondering if it were possible for Dean's boyfriend to get any weirder.

 

Dean shook his head with a half-hearted look of exasperation on his face.

 

"Because he's a weird guy, okay? He's a weird, dorky little guy." A dopey smile graced Dean's features as he stared fondly into the distance. Sam had begun to shift awkwardly by the time Dean came back, clearing his throat as he shook himself out of his reverie, glaring at Sam who stood smirking at him. "But he happens to have an army of angels behind him, and, even though I hate to say it, if we're gonna take down Metatron, they might be useful."

 

So they went to meet Cas in Dixie, Missouri. It wasn't difficult to spot the scene, as the ice cream parlour in question had been all but annihilated.

 

As they neared, they were approached by a deputy who jumped the gun by addressing them as, "Agent Spears and Aguilera? FBI?"

 

Dean, with years of experience of just rolling with it under his belt, nodded. "Uh huh."

 

The deputy inclined her head curtly.

 

"Your partner said you'd be along."

 

Sam smiled.

 

"Thank you."

 

They entered and Dean spotted Cas who was speaking with the sheriff and found himself having to physically hold himself back from grabbing a hold of the angel. As it was, his fists shook with the effort of keeping himself from pushing him up against the wall and—

 

Cas cleared his throat and glared at Dean who blushed and put a damper on his not so clean thoughts

 

"Thank you for coming." The angel greeted, a light blush rising in his cheeks from the graphic image Dean's mind had just relayed to him.

 

Sam, frowning at the interaction and, feeling it better that he ignore it, turned to the angel.

 

"Spears and Aguilera?" He asked with his eyebrow raised.

 

Cas nodded.

 

"I've noticed your aliases are usually the names of popular musicians."

 

Dean wanted to say something, he really did, but the angel just looked so proud of the fact that he could now connect with the brothers through popular culture that he just couldn't.

 

"Wow." was all he said.

 

Cas either ignored or didn't catch on to the sarcasm dripping from Dean's tones and instead lead them over to the corpse.

 

"Come here. Take a look at this." he said as they gathered around a body bag sitting on a gurney. "Look. The other bodies are the same. Burnt-out husks."

 

"Okay, so what is this, some sort of mass smiting?" Dean asked.

 

Cas looked away.

 

"I don't know what this was. Never seen anything like it. Six humans died here. And one angel."

 

He led them over to another corpse, this one covered by a sheet on the floor.

 

"One of yours?" Sam asked as Cas crouched down to lift the sheet.

 

Cas nodded

 

"Was a good soldier. This attack... I knew he wanted a war, but this...This is abhorrent, even for him."

 

Dean sighed and reached out for the angel, pulling him in and pressing a kiss to the side of Cas' head, closing his eyes against the onslaught of misery and devastation that he could feel raging through the angel.

 

…

 

They made their way back to Cas' command centre where they were met with a female angel with a particularly earnest look in her eye. Dean didn't like her upon sight.

 

"Commander." she greeted

 

Dean rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Oh, it's just creepy."

 

"Sam, Dean, this is Hannah." Castiel introduced.

 

Dean vaguely recalled Cas speaking of Hannah on more than one occasion. She seemed to be his right hand.

 

"The Winchesters." she greeted, turning her slightly too wide eyes their way. "I've heard so much about you."

 

Dean smirked and pulled the angel in close. Perhaps with a little too much aggression.

 

"What can I say? Cas is a fan."

 

Cas pulled away and frowned at Dean as another angel in a red shirt stepped forward and took the box Cas held from his hands.

 

"I'll start to examine this evidence." he announced as he carried it off.

 

Sam began to protest but thought better of it. It didn't seem like rational argument would work against a crowd like this. Meanwhile, Hannah was addressing Cas.

 

"Sir, this morning, Josiah wasn't at roll call."

 

"Uh, roll call? You hold, uh, roll call?" It seemed Sam was as creeped out as Dean was by the operation.

 

"They like to hear me say their names." Cas explained.

 

A spike of jealousy shot through Dean at Cas' words and he couldn't help the snarky words that came out of his mouth.

 

"I thought I was the only one allowed to enjoy that."

 

Cas rolled his eyes at Dean and turned his attention back to Hannah who was still looking with wonder at him.

 

"No one's seen Josiah since Ezra was murdered. We think that—"

 

"You think Josiah's the killer, that he is the mole?" Sam interrupted.

 

"Well, who else?" Her question held no room for argument, and Sam and Dean made none. Hannah turned once more to Cas. "We searched the grounds, but he's vanished."

 

"Not without wings." Dean reasoned. "He's an angel, but he's still got to travel like he's human, which means he had to walk, drive—means he's gonna leave a trail."

 

Hannah huffed and crossed her arms, which Dean took as a challenge. They'd see whom Cas listened to more.

 

Sam moved to one of the available computers.

 

"All right." he said, settling down. "What was his vessel's name?"

 

"Sean Flynn from Omaha." Cas replied

 

A few clicks of the keyboard, and Sam had a picture of the vessel’s driver’s licence up on his screen.

 

"This the guy?"

 

Cas nodded.

 

"Yeah, that's him."

 

"All right." Sam continued typing, "Looks like someone just used his credit card at a Gas-n-Sip in Colorado."

 

Dean slapped the table and looked up at Hannah with a smug smile.

 

"And that's how we do things in the pros."

 

He looked over at Cas but the angel in the red shirt had already stolen his attention away.

 

"Commander. I have something. This phone's memory chip has a video time-stamped just before the explosion."

 

So apparently there were angels that could work technology. Dean felt his burst of pride deflate as everyone turned to watch the video.

 

A young man sat addressing the camera when a scream from off screen stole his attention. The camera panned round to reveal the dead angel they'd seen in the ice cream shop standing facing a young girl and carrying and angel blade. In one quick motion, he ripped open the jacket he wore to reveal sigils carved in his chest and, as he directed the blade to the centre of the sigils he cried out.

 

_"I do this for Castiel!"_

 

With a burst of heavenly light, the video cut off.

 

Dean stared after the video ended and the entire complex was silent, wondering what the hell he'd just seen.

 

"What the hell was that?" he asked when no explanation came to him.

 

Cas stood still beside him, nothing but blind shock coming from him.

 

"I don't know." He said softly, "I didn't…I would never ask an angel to sacrifice himself to kill innocents. I'm gonna be sick."

 

Dean turned to him and rested a hand gently on his shoulder, concern for the distraught angel growing.

 

"Cas," Sam said softly, "why would an angel blow up a Colonel Scoop's in your name?"

 

"That's not what he was doing." Hannah interjected, turning to the other angel. "Roll it back. There." Hannah pointed to a little girl sitting in one of the booths. "That was an angel. Esther. She's one of Metatron's."

 

"So, this was some kind of hit?" Sam reasoned.

 

Cas shook his head.

 

"I don't know."

 

"Well…I mean…well, you can't tell me you don't know." Dean hedged, realizing he was walking on thin ice when Cas turned betrayed eyes to him.

 

"You can't think I would allow something like this."

 

Dean huffed and shook his head.

 

"No, I know Cas. I know you try to be a good guy, okay? I do. But…what you got here, this is a freaking cult."

 

He stared at all the blank looks of devotion he could see in the eyes of the angels that surrounded him, not one seeming to posses the capacity to think for themselves. In some ways that was just as dangerous, if not more, than any radical revolutionary. This was the very reason angels like Raphael and Zachariah had been able to take over control in the first place.

 

But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Dean knew he'd stepped in it as anger and hurt surged hot through the connection.

 

"Dean." Castiel's voice echoed the feelings coming from his mind and Dean knew he ought to apologize. To assure the angel that it wasn't him Dean was placing the blame on. But instead, a petty need to plead his case in front of Castiel's followers rose in his chest accompanied by all the lingering feelings of anger and betrayal that he still clung to from Cas' actions so many years ago. For, while he had for the most part forgiven the angel for his part in the whole mess, it hadn't entirely erased the pain and anger Dean had felt at what had happened.

 

"And the last time you had this kind of juice, you did kill humans and angels, and you did nothing but lie to me and Sam about it the whole damn time!"

 

He regretted the words as soon as they had left his mouth but he couldn't seem to find it in him to apologize. Especially not in front of this crowd. So he just stood and stared at the look of pain and anger in the angel's eyes at his words and tried desperately to ignore the feelings accompanying them.

 

Sam stared between the two before he stepped forward and placed a hand gently on Dean's shoulder.

 

"Can we, uh, can we take this somewhere else, guys?"

 

They retired to Cas' office, Dean clinging stubbornly to his self-righteous anger and Cas still stony faced. The connection felt fuzzy, as though something was obscuring it. If Dean had asked, he would have found out it was Castiel using his grace to reign in his emotions.

 

"Will you stow the baggage, Dean?" Sam said with a pleading look in his eyes. "Look, we've got a case. Let's work it. Cas, did you know the angel in that video?"

 

Cas looked up at the younger Winchester, purposefully avoiding eye contact with Dean.

 

"Yes." he said and Dean's stomach gave a jolt at the flatness of his voice. It reminded him all too much of Cas' early days, before humanity had really gotten it's claws into him and opened him up. "His name was Oren. He was a new recruit. He worked in community outreach."

 

"And what does that mean?" Dean asked, figuring he should probably follow Sam's advice and concentrate on the case. It was easier than trying to sort out what was going on in his head.

 

Cas still didn't look at him as he answered his question.

 

"Some of my troops are stationed at a local hospital. They help where they can. Minor miracles. It's nothing that would gain attention."

 

And if Dean had thought he couldn't feel like anymore of an asshole, he realized how very wrong he was at Cas' words. Because he knew how much Cas wanted to help people. And he knew, was awed by, the angel's capacity for love and empathy, having felt it directed at himself on more than one occasion. Self-disgust and hatred flooded in as he realized just how petty he was being bringing up Cas' actions from so long ago. He knew how much Cas regretted what he'd done and how much it pained him to think about what he had become. And Dean had gone and thrown it back in his face just because…he didn't even know why he'd done it really, just that he didn't like the way everyone here – and especially that one Hannah – looked at Cas like he was the second coming. And he missed the angel, and he wasn't sleeping because Cas' visits to his dreams had dwindled down to nothing for what reason Dean wasn't sure and maybe Cas was just happier here, among his own kind and doing the good he always wanted to.

 

And Dean had just gone and insured that Cas wouldn't want to come back once this war with Metatron was over.

 

While Dean was stewing in his own destructive thoughts, Sam had continued.

 

"So, what was he doing in that video, with the stabbing?"

 

"The Enochian runes that were carved in his chest," Cas surmised, "I think that they were meant to focus energy. When he stabbed himself, it unleashed all that power."

 

"So, what about the girl? What happened to her?"

 

"If she was the target, if the blast was focused on her, then more likely than not, she was atomized. So, what do we do now?"

 

"Me and Sam will head to the hospital, see if we can find somebody who knew this...walking nuke." Dean suggested, trying to keep his voice, and emotions neutral. Just as Castiel was.

 

At Dean's words however, Cas' indignation flared.

 

"Hold on. These are my people. I can help."

 

"Well, that's sort of the problem." Dean reasoned, fighting to keep what he now identified as jealousy at Cas' followers in check, "I mean, the Manson girls aren't gonna give us a straight answer with Charlie in the room, so just hang back."

 

Cas' expression was stormy.

 

"So, I should just sit here?"

 

"Pretty much." He couldn't help the snarkiness that came out at those words

 

"No." Cas shot back, "If you don't want my help, then I will follow Josiah's trail to Colorado. I have to do something, Dean."

 

Dean sighed.

 

"All right, fine. But Sam's coming with you."

 

"What?" Sam asked, clearly not wanting to get in the middle of whatever this was

 

"Because you don't trust me?" Incredulity joined the hurt and anger already present in the angel's voice as he stepped forward, his eyes big and wide and blue and…

 

Dean shut off that line of thinking and smiled insincerely.

 

"To help."

 

Cas continued to stare unblinking at him and Dean kept stubbornly silent. He knew he should probably apologize, but the very thought of admitting he might be wrong was stopping his mouth.

 

So Sam and Cas left and Dean took off to the hospital, wondering all the while how his stupid mouth could have gotten him into so much shit in so short a time.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a few more chapters to go and this story will be ending! It's been such a wonderful experience this, my first foray into the Supernatural fandom and thanks to everyone who shared it with me.
> 
> And fear not, there will be a sequel.
> 
> As always huge thanks to Rainbow Fruit Loop for Betaing
> 
> Takes place during 9x22.
> 
> Enjoy and happy 2015!

The drive so far had been silent and awkward. Sam was driving, citing his many, many more years behind the wheel as reason enough, and Castiel was sitting in the passenger seat, brooding as he stared out the window at the passing scenery.

Sam had thought about starting a conversation several times and had found his hand twitching to turn on the radio or do anything that might relieve the oppressive silence, but each time, he hesitated and decided against it. Dean's behaviour and all round bad mood was a pretty big elephant in the room and Sam felt like any disturbance to the current frosty climate might cause a rampage. So he sat and drove and tried to ignore the deafening silence that filled the car.

Finally, as they entered Kansas on their way to Colorado, Castiel spoke.

"Does Dean seem different to you?" His voice was soft, quiet. Sam contemplated lying, or at least glossing over the truth to save the angel's feelings, but ultimately he decided that there had been enough lying already. He didn't need to be adding to that.

"Yeah." He nodded. "Lately, he seems to be…on edge. Irritable."

"Do you think it's my fault? For being away for so long?"

Sam hedged.

"Maybe. He hasn't really been sleeping lately. I don't know if it's because of you or because of what he told us on his birthday. Either way he's not getting more than two hours a night, if that."

"I suspect it's because of me." Cas said.

"Why?" Sam asked.

Castiel sighed.

"At first, I tried to visit him every night in his dreams. At least then, even though I was far away, we could still be together. But my operation…we are all angels. We do not require sleep. And neither do Metatron and his supporters, so we have been forced to work around the clock, which leaves me precious little time during which I can visit Dean. Do you think…do you think maybe he has misinterpreted my absence as disinterest?"

Sam shrugged.

"Maybe. Probably. That sounds like something Dean would do. Still, it was out of line for him to say what he said. Dean always was one to jump right past tact and straight to anger."

Cas nodded

"He does seem angry. I mean, he's always a little angry, but now it seems like...more. I think a part of him actually believed that I ordered those angels to, you know...Sam, you don't, do you?"

Castiel’s voice held genuine fear that Sam was quick to dispel.

"No, Cas, and Dean doesn't either. Listen. You got a weird thing going on back there. Those other angels, the way they stare at you, it's like you're part rock star, part L. Ron."

"They've put their faith in me." Castiel tried to explain.

"And maybe that's the problem." Sam reasoned, "I mean, people have been doing messed up crap in the name of faith, in the name of God, since forever."

"Well... I'm not trying to... play God. I'm just trying to get my people home."

Sam suspected he'd touched a nerve so he didn't continue.

Then the angel started coughing, loudly and deeply. Sam glanced over as the fit continued, the angel's face reddening as he struggled for breath he should not need.

"You all right, man?" Sam asked once the coughing had subsided.

"I am fine." Castiel said in a tone of finality.

They spent the rest of the drive in very much the same state as they started out in.

…

Meanwhile, Dean was in the hospital boiler room, set up as an impromptu interrogation room, with a female angel masquerading as a doctor sitting opposite him. And giving him attitude.

"What do I call you?" Dean asked, sitting forward in his chair.

The angel was reclined in hers, the very picture of unperturbed.

"My angelic name is 18 syllables long." she answered. "Let's stick with Flagstaff."

"Copy. So, you knew this Oren guy?"

"We worked together at the hospital. He was a joy. Bright, full of life."

"Yeah, I hear he had a real explosive personality." As they always did, the words came out before Dean even had a chance to contemplate whether or not they were a good idea.

The answer was obvious when Flagstaff spat back, "Do you think this is a joke?"

"Do you see me laughing?" Dean threw back, frustration mutating into anger without a moment's consideration. "Is there anything else you can tell me about him? For example, why he'd light his own fuse?"

"No." she answered back, Dean's own attitude thrown back at him. "Can I go? I have lives to save."

Self-righteous bitch.

"Welcome to the club."

She smirked.

"Something funny?" he asked.

"Not funny 'ha ha'." she explained. "But you, thinking you help people, it's amusing. _I_ help people. A clogged artery here, a tumour there. I do good in this world. You? You believe every problem can be solved with a gun. You play the hero, but underneath the hype, you're a killer with oceans of blood on his hands. I hate men like you."

The words cut deep. Piercing to the heart of him and throwing light on every little nook and cranny of his dark subconscious. It was true, what she was saying, wasn't it? That was exactly what his father had turned him into. Daddy's blunt little instrument. Doing whatever it took to get the job done. Doing the unthinkable so that others didn't have to. That was his job because he was unclean. And he knew that, had always known. Ever since that night John had come home reeking of José and thrown him down on that month's bed. He could still smell the stench of his father's breath, the squealing of the bedsprings as though they were trying to cry out on his behalf, and his own complacency. That was the part that made it ten times worse. That he hadn't fought. That he hadn't done anything to stop his drunken father from violating him as he spewed vitriolic commentary on the state of Dean's sexual proclivity. He'd just lain back and let it happen. Perhaps he'd wanted it all along. Perhaps some sick part of himself had actually enjoyed the experience. Perhaps that was the same part of himself that had complied when that motel landlord suggested an alternate means of payment.

Maybe he really was worthless. Maybe everything Alistaire had told him had been the truth. Maybe Cas was starting to realize that.

Maybe he should just give in and become what they all said he was. A monster.

Before he even really knew what was happening, he'd thrown the table aside and grabbed Flagstaff by the neck, pushing her back to the floor. Anger flooded in as he pulled out an angel blade and held it to her throat.

"Honey," he growled, not even sure who or what was in control anymore, just that at least, if he was feeling this rush of anger, he wasn't feeling small or hurt or betrayed or alone, "there ain't no other men like me."

She shuddered under him, terror evident in her eyes.

"Don't...please."

He felt a sick, twisted pleasure at the power he now held over her.

_I am not weak. I am not a victim._

"Oren." he demanded. "Friends?"

"Constantine." she answered, her voice quivering in fear. "And Tessa."

"Tessa? The reaper, Tessa?"

"You know her?"

…

The evidence had lead them to Pray, Montana and Sam pulled up outside the address the Gas-'n-Sip employee had given them. A car sat abandoned outside the ramshackle building and Sam made note of it as he stepped out of Cas' car.

"That looks like the car the guy at the gas station was talking about, right? Maybe Josiah's still around." He surmised.

"Sam, this place is radiating power." Cas said. "I haven't felt anything like this since... since heaven. We have to get in here."

"All right."

Unfortunately, no matter how hard Sam slammed his shoulder into the door or picked the lock, it would not budge.

"Step aside." Cas ordered. Sam shot him a look and Cas nodded confidently. "I got this."

Apparently Castiel's considerable angel strength wasn't enough to get the door to budge any more than Sam's attempts.

He turned back to the hunter with a humbled look on his face.

"I don't got this."

Dusk fell as Sam checked for any other ways into the warehouse and by the time he got back to the angel at the front door, it was dark.

"I checked all the windows and doors. No luck. What about you? You find anything?"

Castiel, who was regarding the lintel over the door, nodded.

"I think so."

He held up his hand and a blue light shone out, illuminating the wood and the foreign shapes written there.

"It's Enochian." he explained. "I believe it's some sort of riddle. 'Why is six afraid of seven?'"

Sam frowned – it couldn't be that easy. Could it?

Cas continued.

"Now, I assume it's because seven is a prime number, and prime numbers can be intimidating."

Sam shot the angel a perplexed glance; it really was amusing to see the way the angel's mind worked sometimes.

"It's because seven eight nine." he explained.

With a loud and ominous creak, the door opened of its own accord.

"It's wordplay." Cas wondered. "And the answer is the key, like the doors of Durin in Lord of the Rings."

Sam shook his head.

"It's so weird, you knowing about The Lord of the Rings."

"I'm very pop-culture savvy now." The angel agreed.

Sam was just about to follow Cas into the warehouse when his cell phone rang. Glancing down at his brother's caller ID he answered.

"Hey."

Without any preamble, Dean asked, "How is he?"

Sam rolled his eyes. Yep, definitely whipped.

"He's, uh...He's Cas." he answered enigmatically, not wanting to exacerbate anything between his tetchy brother and his brother's equally tetchy boyfriend, "What about you? How's it going?"

"Great." Dean answered, his tone still suggesting he was on edge. "Went out, got some air, met an old friend. Say hi to Sam, Tessa."

"Your brother's a psycho, Sam." Came the reaper's greeting.

Sam's stomach jolted. How far had his brother gone?

"Ha, ha. Stop." Dean answered wryly.

"What's going on?" Sam asked, concerned.

"You first." Dean demanded.

…

"Where's your friend?"

They were in an interrogation room back at the command centre. Dean had tracked Tessa to a showing of Jesus Christ Superstar and managed to stop her before she blew away an auditorium full of people.

Unfortunately, there was still Constantine to find and she wasn't talking so they hauled ass back to the bunker where the locals weren't too pleased with Dean's idea of using torture to find the wayward Constantine and any other possible walking bombs. He'd been forced to surrender his angel blade at the door on the basis that his own initiative might have a negative effect on the locals. Apparently angels weren't trusted with free will. In fact, Hannah had insisted on sitting in on the interrogation, until she went off on the reaper for implying Cas didn't feel he could trust her and thought her weak and really, this whole Castiel worshiping business was really starting to bug the crap out of Dean.

That was his job, wasn't it?

"Just you and me now." Dean smiled from across the table. "Let's talk about us. I mean, we got history, yeah?"

"Sure." The reaper replied with an equally false smile. "I still remember our meet-cute. You were dying."

"Good times." He nodded. "Here's the deal. I like you, Tess, okay? For an angel. But tell me, why are you doing this?"

"Castiel." She answered, as though that made any kind of sense.

"No, forget Cas. Why are _you_ doing this?" He sighed at the defiant look in her eyes. "Look. I know what it's like, all right? I know because I've been there. In that deep dark place where it feels like there's only one option. But taking innocent people with you? How do you get to that?"

"I guess I just can't take the screaming."

Dean frowned.

"Who's screaming?"

"All of them." She whispered, pain shining out through her eyes. "The lost souls. The ones that can't get into heaven now that it's been boarded up. I hear them. They are so confused. They're in so much pain. All I want to do is help them. It's what I do. It's my job. But I can't. So I suffered. Until death, nothingness…suddenly, it didn't seem so bad. It seemed quiet."

"So, why don't you just jam an angel blade in your throat and call it a day?"

She shrugged.

"I thought about it. But I was too weak. Until Castiel gave me a reason to die."

"Yeah. See, that just doesn't sound like the Cas I know."

"But doesn't it, though?" she questioned. "And the Cas you know, would he raise an army of angels without telling you? 'Cause this Cas did. I'll tell you a secret. There's more out there like me. So many more."

Dean could feel his blood boiling. No way did Cas do this. There had to be some explanation, someone else controlling this. But there was a niggling doubt at the back of his mind that would not shut up no matter how hard he tried. What if what she was saying was true?

"You got names?"

She smiled falsely.

"That would ruin all the fun."

"No." he grinned. "No, see, the fun's just getting started."

He pulled out the angel blade he had stashed in his coat sleeve. No way was he entering a room with a crazed angel without some kind of back up.

She glanced down at the blade as it glinted in the light from the bare bulbs and then back up at Dean.

She smiled, eyes sad, before she rushed forward and impaled herself on the sword.

"Thank you." She whispered as he caught her weight.

Dean closed his eyes against the light the poured from her as she died, falling limp in his arms.

…

Castiel was frantic the whole way back to Missouri. Between Dean's silent cry of shock and the angels calling for his blood, Sam couldn't drive fast enough for his liking. It was times like this he really missed his wings.

The warehouse had been a bust. Actually it had been a trap, a series of literary and filmaticly referenced quests culminating in a false heaven that Sam said he would give anything to un-see. Cas had to admit Metatron had gone a little over the top what with balloons and dolphins and cupids, although he couldn't say he didn't appreciate all the pictures of naked Dean strewn about the place. It had been the burnt remains of Josiah slumped in the corner that had really been the icing on the cake, still alive despite the holy fire that had ravished his vessel and grace. He had even refused Castiel's attempt to heal him, saying he didn't want to owe his life to Castiel.

 _You play at being noble._  He had gasped.  _You play at being one of us. But I look into your eyes... And I don't see an angel staring back at me._

Castiel stared out at the scenery as it passed by. Humanity had begun to infect him the moment he had laid his hand on Dean in hell and while he did not regret one second of it, he was beginning to wonder whether he would truly be able to win this war against Metatron unless he started thinking and acting more like an angel. Perhaps, in this instance, humanity was not better.

They finally reached the command centre to find Dean duct taped and handcuffed to a chair with all the angels standing guard around him.

"He put up a fight." Hannah explained at Castiel's questioning glance.

"Get out." he ordered with anger in his voice.

Sam ripped off the duct tape with a cry from Dean.

"AH!" he grinned. "You should have seen the other ten guys."

"They said you killed Tessa?" Cas asked warily. He didn't want to believe it, didn't want to believe that another of his brethren was dead.

"Not so much." Dean answered. "She knifed herself."

"Yeah? Why would she do that, Dean?" Sam asked sceptically as he un-cuffed his brother.

"I don't know, Sam. She was saying all kinds of crap."

"So that's why you had a second angel blade?"

"They told you about that, huh?"

"They put their trust in you Dean." his brother reprimanded. "And if you'd just stuck to it, Tessa would still be alive. Without her, we ain't got jack."

"Yeah, you think I don't know that? You think I wanted that to happen?"

"I don't know, Dean. Did you?"

"All right, that's enough. Stop it." Castiel interrupted, sending each of the squabbling brothers hard looks.

The door opened and Hannah entered.

"Commander, I'm sorry, but you have a call. From Metatron."

The three men exchanged glances before following the female angel into the main room.

"Castiel." the wannabe God greeted as they came into the room. "Bet you're not happy to see me."

"Is anyone? Ever?" Dean asked rhetorically.

"Dean," Metatron replied anyway, "always with the B-grade '80s-action-movie wit."

"What do you want, Metatron?" Sam asked.

"Just to tell Asstiel, there that I'm still alive. His bomber failed."

"My bomber?" Castiel asked, confusion evident in his voice.

"The crazy guy." Metatron explained. "Big knife. Kablooey. I'm fine, thanks for asking, but Gadreel is wounded, and Tyrus, the other faction leader, R.I.P. His followers are not your biggest fans, by the way. They've all come over to my team."

"I didn't send anyone to kill you."

"Oh, stop lying, Castiel."

"Who are you to lecture me on lying? Your deception led to the fall."

"I did what I had to do. I have always done what I have to do, for God and for the angels."

"Sure." Dean answered. "Yeah, you're mother Teresa with neck beard."

"What I did was neither good nor bad." Metatron defended. "It was necessary. A small hardship to make us all stronger, to make us a family again."

"Yeah, except for the angels you had Gadreel kill." Sam pointed out.

"Okay, yes. Maybe I got a little carried away at first, but those days are over. A near-death experience makes you re-evaluate. So, one time only, I'm offering amnesty. Every angel, no matter what their sin, may join me and return to heaven. I will be their God, and they can be my heavenly host."

"Why would we follow you?" Hannah interjected.

"Well, look around." Metatron explained benevolently. "You've seen earth. You've had a taste of free will. I got to ask you, do you like it? I mean, the way you've flocked off to follow Castiel tells me you need to follow someone. It's in your DNA. But Cas? He's not what you think he is. He sends angels out to die. Have you told them about your stolen Grace, Castiel? How it's fading away, and when it burns out, so will you?"

Silence followed the revelation and Dean's heart stuttered in his chest. Cas was dying? No, he would have told him, he would have…

Nausea rose as his stomach churned and he fought not to look round at the angel, to assess his reaction. As it was, he was having a hard enough time not prodding the connection for more information as Metatron continued in his whiney, annoying speech.

"So…no, then. I'm not the best, but I'm the best you've got. You want to stay with Castiel, fine. But he's playing you, because at the end of the day, the only thing he cares about is himself and the Hardy boys there. You've got a choice to make. Make the right one."

The feed shut off and Castiel turned to find every angel in the compound staring at him. Waiting for him to reassure them. Or give them a reason to leave.

"He's lying." he said.

"About the Grace?" Hannah asked. Gone was the doe-eyed look of wonder in her eyes.

"It's complicated." Cas hedged.

"So he wasn't lying." Flagstaff inferred.

"He was about everything else." Cas explained. "He..." As he looked around at the faces staring back at him, he knew nothing he was saying was making any kind of difference. Metatron had been right about one thing, therefore he had to have been right about everything. He turned to Hannah. "You believe me, don't you?"

"I want to believe you, but I...we need proof."

"Name it." Castiel said without hesitation.

"Punish him." she said, nodding in Dean's direction.

"What?" Dean asked.

"He murdered Tessa." she explained. "He broke our rules."

"Y'all can all go to hell." Dean smiled as he made to leave.

"Dean." Castiel warned as Dean was grabbed by several angels. Sam moved to help him but more held him back.

"You gave us order, Castiel, and we gave you our trust." Hannah continued. "Don't lose it over one man." She held the blade out to him, hilt first. "This is justice."

Castiel took the blade and stared at it. There had been so much killing. So many dead, angels and humans alike. And despite what Dean continued to insist, it was still partially his fault. Mostly his fault. He stared at the blade. How easy would it be to just turn it on himself? To end all of this suffering. He glanced up and found himself staring directly into Dean's verdant eyes, which were staring back at him in shock. It occurred to him that Dean might have misinterpreted his hesitation.

"No." he answered firmly. "I can't."

Hannah stared back impassively.

"Goodbye, Castiel." she answered.

Castiel stood stock still as one by one the angels who had followed him faithfully for the past countless months filed out of the room, leaving himself and the two Winchesters alone in the once bustling room.

The drive back to the bunker was made in silence. Dean sat in the drivers seat staring hypnotically out onto the road, Sam dozed in the passenger seat, head propped up against the glass in a position that was all too familiar to him, and Castiel sat in the back, photos and mementos from his office sitting in a box beside him and Brian cradled in his hands as he tried not to think about what his next step would be, or if there even was another step to take.

Once they got back, Sam disappeared into his room while Dean followed Castiel into the library, throwing his duffle down onto the table.

"So, batteries."

Castiel let out an exasperated sigh.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Dean's gaze was piercing as he stared accusatorially at the angel. "How long you got?"

"Long enough to destroy Metatron," he said and then added, "I hope. But without an army…"

"Well, hey, you still got us." Dean reminded, his voice soft.

Cas frowned.

"Dean. Those bombers…you don't really think that I—"

"Cas, you just gave up an entire army for me. No, there's no way that you blew those people away. Granted, you did take your sweet time saying no."

Hurt seeped through the connection he still had somewhat blocked as Dean glanced away.

"Dean, I—"

"Why didn't you tell me, Cas?"

Castiel frowned.

"Tell you about what?"

Dean turned his gaze back to the angel sitting across from him.

"About your grace. About the fact that you're losing it. About the fact that Metatron implied it was going to kill you when it was gone."

Cas said nothing.

"Well?" Dean asked, his voice hard. "Will it?"

Cas said nothing, choosing to continue to stare at the table. Dean let out a sigh that was part anger, part bone deep weariness.

"Dammnit Cas. What happened to the whole 'I'll never leave' crap? What? Was that all just lies?"

"No, Dean, I—" Castiel began when a call from Sam and heavy footsteps alerted them and they stood to see Gadreel entering the bunker, hands up.

"I'm not here to fight." He declared. "I thought about what you said. You're right. Metatron, he's...something needs to be done."

"And we should trust you why?" Sam asked.

"Because I can give him to you. I know where Metatron is. I know everything. I know the bombers. They were his agents, not yours. You don't trust me, fine. I understand. I've...made mistakes. But haven't you? Haven't we all? At least give me a chance."

No one moved. Sam was on the other side of the room, hand ready to grab the blade he had hidden in his jacket at a moment's notice. Dean was glaring at the angel who had had a not so small part in making his and every one whose lives he cared about hell for the better part of the past nine months. Castiel stood still behind Dean and weighed up his options. On the one hand he had just lost his army to Metatron and he could feel his body weakening by the day as his grace faded gradually away.

On the other hand, here was an opportunity to gain some knowledge and insight into Metatron's operation while simultaneously ridding Metatron of his right hand.

The two brothers and two angels stood at a standstill in the atrium of the bunker, until Cas stepped forward and held out his hand.

"We would be grateful for your assistance."

…

Dean found Castiel in their room, sitting fingering one of the photos he had brought back with him in the box that sat by his feet. Dean took a seat beside him and glanced over. It was a candid photo that Cas had taken of Dean; mid-laugh, head thrown back in mirth, eyes sparkling.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

The angel's voice was quiet and soft and he did not take his eyes of the photograph as he said it.

"Sorry for what?" Dean asked.

Castiel glanced upwards and over until he was looking at the hunter.

"For not telling you about my grace. I withheld the information because I did not want to upset or worry you." He glanced back down at the picture of a smiling, carefree Dean, "And because I didn't know how to tell you."

Dean sighed and wound an arm around the angel's shoulder, pulling him in and pressing a kiss to his hair. The angel rested his head against Dean's shoulder and a cough escaped him, which turned into a fit and Dean shut his eyes against the wrongness of it all.

"We'll figure something out." he promised softly; they always did.

"We are much outnumbered now." Cas commented, head resting in the crook of Dean's neck.

"Well hey. You've still got us."

"Do you believe we three will be enough?" the angel asked.

Dean pulled away and lifted his hand to Cas' cheek, trying to ignore the pallid cast of his skin as he fixed him with his gaze.

"We always have been." he stated, and then added, "Plus now we've got all the dirt on Metatron straight from the horse's mouth."

Cas nodded and looked away.

"Yes. I believe Gadreel will prove to be a very helpful ally. He believes the key to defeating Metatron lies in breaking his connection with the angel tablet."

"And how exactly are we supposed to do that?" Dean asked more than a little sceptically.

"First I must get my hands on the tablet." Cas explained.

Dean looked wary.

"And just where is the tablet?" he asked, tone dangerous.

"In his office." Castiel admitted.

"In heaven." Dean confirmed.

"Yes."

"You expect to just waltz into heaven with Metatron's former right hand man and what? Just hope for the best?"

"Dean, I have to try."

The hunter scoffed and crossed his arms, clearly indicating the myriad of problems he had with this plan.

"Dean."

Dean didn't answer, just sat petulantly silent beside the angel.

"Dean."

"What?"

Cas looked down at his hands, which were twiddling and twitching in very human actions of stress and nerves. Dean sighed and rubbed his hand down his face.

"Sorry, Cas. What did you want?"

"It was something Josiah said to me. Just before he died, he said, 'I look into your eyes... And I don't see an angel staring back at me.'"

Cas was silent, staring unseeing out at the wall of the bunker room. Dean contemplated a response.

"The guy was a douche Cas. He killed Ezra and switched sides only to have Metatron kill him. He was a loser."

"But he still spoke the truth." Cas looked around at Dean, "Today I chose one individual over the good of the faction and the mission. An angel should not make that choice."

"But it was the right choice Cas."

"For a human perhaps." He went back to staring sadly at the grey, concrete wall, "But I am not human. Not anymore. And yet I am no longer an angel either. But if I am to defeat Metatron, I feel I must think more like him and less like, well…you."

Dean frowned.

"You don't like the way I think?" he asked, a little bit hurt by the angel's confusing reasoning.

"No, Dean." Castiel assured. "I quite like the way you think. But in this instance I fear the attributes of humanity that I normally see as good may prove to be more of a hindrance."

"What attributes?"

"Emotion. Feelings. My feelings for you for example, which led to the loss of the army I worked so hard to build up."

Dean frowned, cold fear starting low in his gut.

"What are you saying, Cas?"

Castiel shifted to face the hunter.

"This decision has nothing to do with you, Dean. I want you to remember that. I want you to remember that I love you and that I _will_ come back."

"Cas?" Dean's voice was soft and small.

"But for now I need to be an angel. I need to focus on the mission. I love you and I'm sorry."

Dean still wasn't entirely sure what Cas was talking about until he started to feel the place in his mind that connected to the angel, and which had been bland and indistinct ever since their little spat, close off.

"No." he said, disbelief colouring his words. "No Cas, please."

"It will be all right." Cas promised.

"No, Cas." He was begging now, pleading. And the angel's eyes were sad as the last vestiges of his presence in Dean's mind were severed and the hunter was left with a cold emptiness. "Cas!"

He was still sitting there, real and solid in front of him, but the constant presence in his mind on which he had come to rely more than he had thought possible, was gone. And the resulting emptiness, like the silence after an explosion, seeped into him, consuming and eating away at everything it reached until he felt hollowed out, bare and exposed.

Cas' hand was on his face and the angel was speaking but Dean couldn't hear the words, not through the din of nothingness that echoed in the empty spaces inside him.

He stood, shoving away the hands that reached for him, and fled.

The bunker was a blur of dim lighting and concrete as he made his way through the labyrinthine hallways until, almost without his knowledge, he was in the garage and then he was in his baby, the one constant in his tumultuous and nomadic existence and he was cramming a well-worn tape into the deck and screaming out into the unknown, music blaring loud enough to drown out the silence in his thoughts. Vaguely, at the back of his mind, he thought he felt Cas trying to force his way back in but Dean shut it down. It was probably only wishful thinking anyway and as terrifying as this new silence was, a part of him was glad to have his thoughts to himself, especially when the tears came, trickling at first and then streaming until the road blurred and he was forced to pull over.

He turned off the car and the stereo shut off, plunging him once more into ice-cold silence. He tipped forward until his forehead rested against the steering wheel, and the steady stream of tears became a torrent and he sobbed until his lungs burned for air and his entire being felt sapped of energy.

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've sped up Castiel's grace burning out timeline for plot reasons. I hope no one minds too much.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks as always to Rainbow-Fruit-Loop for betaing and to everyone who has read and enjoyed this fic.
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

Castiel was conferring with Gadreel in the library when Dean tramped back in an hour later, footfalls heavy as he dragged his exhausted body into the room. Cas stood immediately and crossed the room, only to falter just shy of Dean, hanging back with uncertainty.

Dean sighed and gestured with his head for the angel to follow, making his way back to their room without a word. He could hear Castiel's footfalls echo loudly in the hallway, deafening him with every step they took.

Once inside, Dean sat down and gestured for the angel to do the same when he hung back, loitering in the doorway.

He sat.

No one spoke.

"Dean."

Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose when Cas spoke his name and didn't continue, letting the silence between then continue to grow ever more palpable and vast.

"Do you really think this'll help you take down Metatron?" Dean asked, his voice rough.

Castiel hesitated and Dean glanced over to see the angel fiddling with the hem of his coat, the one Dean had bought him on his first day in the bunker, before he lifted his eyes to Dean's.

"Yes." he answered, "But it won't be forever. I promise."

Dean huffed.

"Yeah, you've said that before."

"Dean—"

"It's all right, Cas." he assured. "I understand, I don't like it, but if you think you gotta do it, I gotta believe you know what you're doing, right? Please tell me you know what you're doing."

Cas nodded.

"I do. And I'll come back. I promise." The angel reached for Dean but he ducked out of his reach.

"Don't make promises you can't keep. Please."

Cas' expression was sad as he nodded.

"I'm sorry." he whispered.

Dean smiled despite himself and looked over at the angel.

"So, what's the plan?"

…

As it turned out, the plan was for Gadreel and Cas to take Metatron down and for Dean and Sam to stay out of trouble. Metatron had put out an all systems call letting the entire angel population know that he would be 'gone' and they would use his temporary absence as a chance to break into heaven and destroy the angel tablet. Dean had some problems with said plan which he voiced, loudly, but he was outnumbered three to one and so he begrudgingly kissed Cas goodbye and pointedly ignored his brother as he stalked off to mope. No, he was  _waiting_  for Cas.

Definitely no moping.

The next day, Sam rushed in all excited with his laptop and insisted Dean watch the latest trending, viral meme or whatever the fuck it was called.

_Two teenaged boys had their phone camera zoomed into the ass of a girl as she walked down the sidewalk_ _ahead of them._

_"And that, America, is perfection."_

_"Yo, dude, that's your sister." the other one said just before a bus_ _came out of nowhere and_ _crashed headlong into the girl_ _,_ _sen_ _ding_ _her flying across the pavement._

_The footage was shaky and indistinct as the boys ran over_ _._

_"Oh, my God! She's dead, man! She's dead."_

_"I'm not so sure about that." A whiny, high-pitched voice spoke and Metatron came into view as he moved forward and bent over the prone body of the woman. One pass of his hand and she was up and the angel was leaning forward, whispering something in her ear._

_"Is he ser...is he freaking serious?!" the first boy yelled._

_"Did you see that?! Holy...Tell me you just got that." The other agreed, "Dude, what's your name?"_

_Metatron looked straight at the camera_ _._

_"Marv." He answered_ _and the video froze on his meek expression._

"When was this taken?" Dean asked as the video shut off.

"A couple of hours ago." Sam answered. "Muncie, Indiana."

"What did he whisper in her ear?" he wondered as he scrolled back the footage and rewatched the miraculous healing.

…

"The door to heaven is in a playground?"

Castiel regarded the swing set from his seat in the car with trepidation, unsure whether or not his new ally was entirely reliable. Or sane for that matter.

"Guarded by two of Metatron's most loyal." Gadreel answered, indicating the mother and daughter seen playing there. "I recruited them myself. So, you said you had a plan... How we might convince them to let us pass."

Castiel pulled out a set of handcuffs.

"Wookiee." he explained with a grin.

Gadreel looked confused.

"Brother, I have no idea what that means."

"It's a reference to a very popular film that- never mind." Castiel suddenly had a new appreciation for the frustration Dean always seemed to exhibit whenever one of his references went over Castiel's head.

Cas showed him how to work the cuffs and they approached the two angels, Castiel struggling against the bonds for good measure.

"Asariel, Purah," Gadreel greeted, "make way."

"The door's closed, Gadreel." Purah answered. "By orders of Metatron."

"And who do you think gave the order to capture Castiel?" Gadreel countered. "Unless you think Metatron isn't interested in questioning the leader of the rebellion?"

The two guardian angels shared a glance before the other, Asariel, answered.

"The spell must be redrawn."

"As quickly as possible, then."

Once Purah finished drawing the spell in the sandbox, it kicked up a maelstrom of heavenly light into which Cas and Gadreel stepped. Castiel held his breath as he was enveloped by the light, and he couldn't help the anticipation that kickstarted his heart pounding. He was going back to heaven. He was going home.

A bell dinged and the swirling mass of light coalesced into an elevator. The doors opened and Cas was manhandled by Gadreel into an orderly office of angels, where they were met by Hannah and another angel Castiel did not recognize.

"Well done." she commended. "We've sent word to Metatron. He'll be back shortly. You can wait inside."

"Thank you, Ingrid." Gadreel greeted with a smile and the two entered Metatron's office, the door closing behind them.

Cas smiled and relaxed. They were almost there.

Then the lights shut off and the walls crumbled, new ones springing up in their place.

"What's going on?" Castiel demanded, sure Gadreel was behind the betrayal until his surroundings coalesced into a familiar sight and Gadreel's panicked voice sounded from the cell next to his.

"No, no, no, no! Not here!"

"Did you really think your little ruse would work?"

Ingrid stood outside the cell door with Hannah hanging back behind her.

"Please." Gadreel begged, as Ingrid strode past him without a word. "Please!"

She stopped in front of Castiel's cell.

"Welcome to heaven's jail, Castiel. I believe Gadreel can give you the tour."

…

No word came from Castiel and Dean was beginning to grow restless. He had had to practically dragged Sam to investigate the miraculous healing they had witnessed and managed to track down the girl Metatron had healed, speaking with her long enough to glean what he had whispered to her in the video - his next location - before she left, and then he and Sam had fought about what their next step would be. Dean wanted to investigate further, take the fight to Metatron but Sam had to go and be all reasonable, pointing out that Cas and Gadreel had a plan and that Sam and Dean were hideously outmatched now that Metatron was basically a demigod and it would be better all round for them to just go back to the bunker and wait it out.

It was wrong. He could feel it in his bones. He wasn't meant to be sitting on the sidelines, twiddling his thumbs. He was Dean Winchester, he was meant to be in the fray, battling it out against the bad guys, horribly outnumbered and outmatched but still doing everything in his limited power to help.

Besides, what was he waiting for? For Castiel to come waltzing back through the door, saying everything was fine, Metatron was taken care of, Heaven was restored, the angels were home and he was Dean's until their dying day?

Who was he kidding, life wasn't like that. Not for Dean Winchester. Castiel wouldn't be coming back, whether or not he succeeded, his grace would still burn out and Dean would be left alone.

He already was alone.

He closed his eyes and tried to conjure every memory he had of his and Castiel's time together, the good and the bad, the joy and the tears, quiet moments just before sleep or just after waking when the world felt no bigger than their bed.

He smiled. In many ways he had been far luckier than he had ever thought possible. So what if it couldn't last? That was to be expected. At least he'd had something worthwhile, something real.

His heart ached but he shoved the feeling down. He should be grateful for the time he'd spent with the angel, not lamenting the fact that it was all over. Hell, he should be grateful it happened at all, it's not like he had deserved any of it. The universe had granted him a short reprieve from his hellish life and now it was over. Dean Winchester was miserable and alone. All was once again right with the world.

The least he could do was help Castiel in saving the world by buying him a little time.

He packed his bag and stared around at the room that held the best of his memories. He looked over at the closet that stood open and still housed all of Castiel's human clothes and at the wall of photos Cas had accrued. A jolt of sentimentality washed over him and he pulled down his favourites and stowed them in his bag. Then he grabbed the duffle and Brian's cage and left, shutting off the light and closing the door. He didn't look back.

He left the guinea pig in his cage on the library table with a note to Sam to take good care of him. Not that he would expect anything else from his oversized brother.

And then he was in the Impala, driving to Metatron's last known location and hoping that whatever he was about to do would end up being useful in the long run.

…

"Okay, so you're telling me that Metatron set you up, arranged those suicide bombers to make himself look like the victim."

Castiel was perched inside his cage, trying desperately to convince Hannah of his innocence. He took it as a good sign that she was at least humouring him by staying to listen to his side of what happened.

"Gadreel was his second in command." Castiel reasoned. "For what other reason than the truth would he turn against Metatron?"

"So now I'm expected to trust the word of an angel who's only ever thought of himself since the Garden, and you? You told us not a single angel more would die in this fight."

"What do you think I have been trying to do?"

"Trying?" Hannah spat back. "By killing Metatron?"

"He is the reason for all of our suffering."

"Nothing you say matters."

"Would you rather I not try at all?" he countered.

"Not if you can't prove it."

"So give us a chance." he implored. "Let us out, Hannah. Please."

She went back to her place guarding them and spoke no more, shutting out any more pleas Castiel may have thrown at her. Eventually he gave up and silence abounded until Gadreel began to speak.

"I sat in this hole for thousands of years, thinking of nothing but redemption, of reclaiming my good name." The angel's voice was trembling, with anger or fear Castiel could not tell. "I thought of nobody, no cause, other than my own."

"You've been redeemed, my friend." Castiel called out, hoping to alleviate at least a little of the angel's suffering.

"The only thing that matters in the end is the mission. Protecting those who would not and cannot protect themselves; the humans. None of us is bigger than that. And we will not let our fears, our self-absorption prevent us from seeing it through. Not anymore."

"No. Of course not." The angel's words were worrying Castiel with their finality.

"Move to the other side of your cell, Castiel, and keep your head down."

"What are you doing?" Castiel questioned as he moved, fearing for the intensity he heard in Gadreel's voice.

Hannah rushed to Gadreel and gasped at the sigils he had cut into his chest with one of the jagged rocks that littered his cell.

"Don't!" She shouted, fumbling for the key.

"When they say my name," he gasped, "perhaps I won't just be the one who let the serpent in. Perhaps I will be known as one of the many…"

"Gadreel." Castiel warned as he continued.

"...who gave heaven a second chance." He stared at Hannah. "Run, sister."

Hannah backed away and Castiel cowered as, with a yell, Gadreel's cell exploded.

Once the dust had cleared, Castiel stepped from the wreckage of his own cell to find Hannah gasping over Gadreel's prone body.

She spun round.

"Do you believe him now?"

…

According to the girl's statement, Metatron had settled in a homeless camp where the new messiah had already amassed several disciples of his own. They tried to stop him entering the abandoned warehouse that was now serving as 'Marv's' headquarters and really, it was all feeling a little too much like a modern adaptation of Jesus Christ Superstar and honestly his rope was a little short and frayed.

It didn't take Dean long to get inside.

When he did, it was to find Metatron sitting, meditating on the floor of the warehouse.

"You can save the humble-pie Jesus routine for somebody who gives a damn." he quipped.

"The problem with you, Dean, is the cynicism." Metatron answered back. "Always with the cynicism. But most people, even the real belly crawlers living in filth...Or Brentwood...They don't want to be cynical. They just want something to believe in."

"And that'd be you."

"Why not me?"

"You've been working those people outside for, what, a day? They've already spilled blood in your name. You are nothing but Bernie Madoff with wings."

"So I'm a fake." The angel shrugged. "Do you have any idea how much pancake makeup and soft lighting it took to get God to work a rope line? He hated it. And, you know, humans sense that. So they prayed harder and longer and fought more wars in his name. And for what?! So they could die of malaria? Leukemia? And all the while, blaming themselves! 'Oh, if only I'd been more prayerful, God would have loved me! God would have saved me!' You know what?! God didn't even know their name! But I do. Because I've walked among them. And I can save them."

"Sure, you can." Dean answered back, glad Metatron was enough of a stereotypical villain to feel the need to explain himself in long, whiny monologues. It was making stalling for time so that Cas could safely get to the Angel tablet much easier. "So long as your mug is in every Bible and 'What would Metatron do?' is on every bumper."

"And? What, are you blaming me for giving them what they want, giving them a brand they can believe in?"

"I'm blaming you for taking Cas' grace." Dean shot back, anger rising. "I'm blaming you for the hell you put him through. Hell, I'm blaming you for the Cubs not winning The World Series in the last 100 freaking years. Whatever it is, I'm blaming you."

"Okay, let's say you win, Dean, and I die. What's the world left with then, hmm? A herd of panty-waisted angels and you?"

"Yeah," Dean answered. "You see, the only thing you've said that went into my ear was that you die."

"Ohh. Fine. We'll fight. I don't know what you expect is gonna come of all this. Unless that's why you're stalling. Because you know nothing's gonna come of this unless your pals succeed upstairs. Well, here's a news flash, humpty and dumpty are starring in their very own version of 'Locked Up Abroad: Heaven' right now."

Anger rose in Dean at the thought of Cas locked up in heaven's prison, and he lashed out, angel blade jumping into his hand as he lunged forward. If what he was saying was true and Cas wasn't going to be able to get to the tablet, the least he could do was at least try to take the big boss down.

But Metatron, with all his suped-up, Angel-tablet power was too quick and, in one casual moment, moved aside, grabbing Dean and using his own momentum to hurl him hard into one of the concrete walls.

…

"Where is it?" Castiel rounded on Ingrid whom Hannah had at blade point. She stayed silent and Castiel, knowing he had little to no time before Metatron caught word of Gadreel's martyrdom and came running, ordered curtly. "Remove her."

He turned and glanced around the room, trying to decide the best place to begin his hunt for the tablet.

…

Dean stood and began moving towards Metatron but with a casual gesture, Dean was once again flying back into the wall and crashing to the ground, pain blooming. Metatron approached slowly as Dean fought to regain the use of his lungs, gasping helplessly as the the wannabe god knocked the blade out of his hand and kicked him in the face before stomping down hard on his wrist.

"Look at you. Big bad Dean Winchester come to the aid of his little boyfriend. Do you miss your precious little Castiel? Do you pine for him? Do you even realize that he doesn't really love you? That he can never really love you? Angels aren't programmed to do that you know? He may think he does. He may fancy himself in love, but true passion? The kind that transcends time and space, that lasts for all eternity," he bent down, "it doesn't exist. It never has. It is a fabrication created by the human mind to deal with the hollowness of mortal life and the intensity of human emotion. That is why angels will always be superior to humans, Dean. Because we have no such weaknesses. Well, except for freaks like your dear Castiel. But even he is not capable of true love. That's why he left."

Dean tried desperately to ignore Metatron's words. After all, he had felt Castiel's love first hand, had felt the depth of it, the power of it. He had no illusions as to how much Castiel loved him. But was that enough? There were other things more powerful than love. Like duty. Castiel's duty to his people, to his cause, to his mission. That was what had taken him away in the end. Anger too, was stronger than love Dean had come to learn, why else would his father, who had professed to loving him, had told him many times, had demonstrated to him by sacrificing his own life for Dean's, why else would he have done what he had done? Why else would his hatred of Dean's sexual preference have overpowered his love for his own son?

Dean winced as Metatron landed another blow. And then he was being hauled up and thrown at the wall again, Metatron landing punch after punch until his head was spinning and his face was in agony and all he could think of was that at least he was buying Cas some time and hopefully it would all be over soon.

…

Castiel had torn apart the office searching for the tablet, but it was nowhere to be found. He stood in the wreckage of the room, panting as his strength left him. He could feel what little grace he had left burning away inside him and he suddenly knew his time was well and truly running out. He scanned the room, trying to imagine where Metatron might have hidden his most prized possession, when his eyes lit on the typewriter that sat on his desk upon which Castiel recalled Metatron typing when he had been taken prisoner. He moved towards it, rounding the desk and lifting it to reveal the glowing tablet inside.

…

Dean sat against the wall, beaten and broken, face throbbing and blood trickling and obscuring his vision. Blearily, he caught sight if the angel blade that sat just out of reach. He strained his aching body to reach forward, stubbornly ignoring the way his ribs screamed in agony at the movement until he had the weapon in his grasp. A thrill of victory went through him and he sat up. Only to find Metatron in front of him with his own angel blade which he drove hard into Dean's chest.

He gasped as the silvery blade slid in, cutting through skin and sinew. It didn't hurt, not at first, but then Metatron grinned sadistically as he twisted the blade and elicited another breathless gasp from the Winchester and Dean glanced down as the blade was pulled from his chest.

As he tried to process what had just happened, an agonizing cry went up from across the warehouse and he glanced up to see his brother standing frozen in horror. Sammy. Sammy had come. Sammy had followed him. Probably tracked him on the phone he had forgotten to turn off. Or maybe he hadn't forgotten. Maybe he had wanted his brother to find him. To be with him at the end.

Then breathing became too hard and holding himself up became too much as more and more blood spilled from the gaping hole in his chest and he felt his body tip sideways, crashing to the ground as his senses began to fade.

He felt hands on him. Not Metatron's sweaty palms but his brother's strong hands as he pulled him upright, his voice a buzz in Dean's ears as he moaned from the pain the movement caused.

Then the whole warehouse began to shake and Sam, as though just remembering that Metatron was there, went to drive his own angel blade into the would-be god, but the snake had already disappeared from sight.

…

The moment the Tablet crashed to the floor in shards of broken stone, Metatron appeared before Castiel who was sitting, relaxed in his desk chair.

"Well played, Castiel. Obviously, you and Gadreel managed to turn a few dead enders against me."

"Gadreel is dead." Castiel informed.

"Ah. So Gadreel bites the dust." Metatron greeted the news with indifference. "And the angel tablet, arguably the most powerful instrument in the history of the universe, is in pieces, and for what again? Oh, that's right. To save Dean Winchester. That was your goal, right? I mean, you draped yourself in the flag of heaven, but ultimately, it was all about saving one human, right? Well, guess what. He's dead, too."

Fear and nausea coursed through Castiel at the news. It wasn't true was it? It couldn't be. Dean was in the bunker. Dean was safe. Dean was waiting for him.

He told himself this, hoping he would believe it. Metatron lied. Metatron lied all the time. There was no reason to believe him. Dean was fine. Dean had to be.

"And you're sitting in my chair." Metatron added and at his words Castiel's hands were cuffed to the armrests.

…

Sam was pressing a cloth to Dean's chest as Dean tried to speak around the blood that was slowly but surely filling his lungs and choking him.

"Sammy, you got to get out of here before he comes back."

"Shh. Shh. Shh. Shh." Sam blabbered. "Shut up. Shut up. Just save your energy, all right? Oh, man. We'll stop the bleeding. We'll…we'll get you a doctor or…or I'll find a spell. You're gonna be okay."

"Listen to me." Dean murmured. "It's better this way."

"What?!"

"Saving the world, right? It's what we do. It's what we always do. I always knew I'd go out like this. Why not now?"

"What about Cas, Dean? You guys have got each other. What do you think this is going to do to him?"

"Cas is dying." Dean coughed. "His grace is fading and there's no telling whether or not he'll find a way to stop it." He looked up into his brother's concerned eyes. "We were never meant to last. You know that. We had what we had. And that was enough. Hell, it was more than I ever deserved."

Sam shook his head.

"Well, I'm not ready to lose you. And you shouldn't give up on Cas that easily. Now come on."

With a moan of agony, Sam hauled Dean to his feet and they began the long trek out of the wreckage of the warehouse.

…

"You will never get away with this." Castiel's voice trembled as he strained against the cuffs, desperate to get this over with so he could find Dean and reassure himself that the hunter was okay.

"Get away with what?" Metatron asked smugly. "You told a silly story to a group of less-than-believers. I'll clean up your mess in an hour."

"You give our brothers and sisters far too little credit." Castiel answered back, pleased that the other angel seemed to be falling into his trap. "They will soon learn that you have been playing them."

"And then? They will do nothing because they are frightened little sheep following my crook wherever it leads. And where I'm taking them, back to our rightful place atop this mountain of human shame and excrement, when that happens, trust me, they're not gonna care how they got there.

"You know why you could never quite pull it together, Castiel? Why you're sitting here with Your Grace slowly burning away and your reputation long extinguished? No curiosity. You didn't read enough. You never learned how to tell a good story."

He had him. Castiel leant forward, still hampered by the cuffs chaining him to the chair.

"But you did."

He glanced over at the desk where Metatron's microphone, tuned into the wavelength of sound all angels used to communicate with each other, was on and broadcasting. The door flew open and angels upon angels crowded in, grabbing Metatron as Castiel stood, cuffs banished, and raised his blade.

"Take him to the prison." he ordered, before striding to the elevator and concentrating on Dean, hoping that wherever the portal spat him out, the hunter would be nearby, and that he would be alright.

…

Dean was struggling to put one foot in front of the other until finally his legs gave out and he sagged in Sam's arms.

"Sam. Hold up. Hold up." he gasped, fresh blood covering his lips as he struggled to breath.

Sam stopped and let him lean against a disused piece of machinery.

"I got to say something to you."

"What?" Sam asked as he held Dean upright.

Dean's hand moved from Sam's shoulder to his face and their eyes met.

"I'm proud of us." he whispered and then his eyes closed and his body slumped, boneless, into Sam's grasp.

"No, no. Hey, hey, hey. Hey, wake up, buddy." Sam babbled as he pushed Dean away, holding him upright and shaking him, willing him to open his eyes, to breath, to live. "Hey. Dean." There was no response. "Dean!"

Tears, which had begun to trickle down his cheeks were now streaming as it hit him, truly and viscerally, that Dean was dead and gone. He sobbed, pulling his brother's limp body to his chest and holding him tightly.

Dimly, he registered a bright blast of light in a far off corner of the warehouse accompanied by a rush of wind and then Castiel was standing there, hearing Sam cry heart wrenching sobs while cradling his brother's bloody body.

"No." he whispered as he walked and then ran towards the brothers. "Dean!"

Sam looked up at the angel's cry, his face blotchy from tears.

"Cas! Cas you've gotta help him!"

Castiel reached Dean, and Sam moved aside as the angel caught the limp body, cradling his face as he stroked across the bloodstained skin.

"Dean." It was done. Metatron was captured. The angels had been returned to heaven. Dean was meant to be waiting for him. Not dead. Not dead. "Dean."

His throat closed off as he felt Dean's still-warm skin. He could feel what was left of his grace burning away inside him. Leaving him day by day. He didn't know how much he had left or indeed, if he had enough to pull Dean's soul back into his body and knit his flesh back together, especially from a wound made by an angel blade, which, while not as devastating as it was for an angel, still took effort to heal. But there was no question. Because this was Dean and he would give every last ounce of grace for him.

He placed his hand on the wound which was still trickling blood and poured the remainder of his grace into him. Slowly, he healed the extensive damage, lungs sealing, muscles reforming. The bruises on his face faded, the crushed wrist reformed, the blood dissipating and Castiel pressed a kiss to his temple as Dean sucked in a breath and his green eyes blinked open.

"Dean?" Sam breathed.

Dean glanced up at his brother and then over at the angel whose arms were wrapped around him.

"Cas." he asked in disbelief.

Castiel smiled.

"You're going to be all right now." he whispered, exhaustion stealing his strength before he collapsed to the floor.

"Cas!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm a terrible person who is addicted to cliffhanger deaths. Please leave a comment.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Penultimate chapter everyone! We are nearing the end!
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to everyone who followed, favourited, and reviewed this fic, this is one of my favourite things to do and something I'm constantly thinking about so to be able to share it with people who like it is wonderful. Thank you!
> 
>  
> 
> And thanks as always to Rainbow Fruit Loop for betaing :)
> 
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> 
> Enjoy!

_"You're going to be all right now." He whispered, exhaustion stealing his strength before he collapsed to the floor._

_"Cas!"_

Dean was on the ground in a second, grabbing at the angel whose skin had gone pale as a coughing fit hit and would not stop. Dean pulled him up, cradling him against his chest as Cas continued to hack, finally cutting off with a gasp.

"Cas!" Dean didn't know what to do, "Cas, no."

Castiel raised a shaking hand and rested it on Dean's unshaven cheek, rubbing the pad of his thumbover the ginger stubble.

"You're such a hypocrite." he whispered, his voice more hoarse than usual.

!"What are you talking about?" Dean asked, body trembling as he listened to the wheezing of Cas' breath.

"You cannot abide others giving their lives for you and yet you are willing to sacrifice yourself at the drop of a hat."

"Wha—?" Dean protested but Sam cut him off.

"He's kind of right Dean."

"You shut up." Dean ordered curtly, before rounding on the angel in his arms who was fading fast, "And you, don't you dare die on me."

"Like you did to me and Sam?"

"That's different."

"How?"

Dean paused.

"'Cause I'm not worth it." He said softly.

Cas' smile was sad as he answered, "Yes you are Dean Winchester."

In the far back of his mind, in the empty place where Cas used to be, Dean felt...something. A prodding. His first instinct was to fight back against it, he had been resolutely ignoring it ever since Cas had closed it off, but as the angel struggled for breath in his arms, his wings lying limp beneath him, Dean let go of the anger and resentment and opened himself up to it. Instantly, he was flooded with the overwhelmingly familiar presence of the angel in his mind, accompanied by all the love Cas could muster. Which was quite a lot.

He let out a surprised breath and smiled despite himself.

"I missed you." He whispered and the angel in his arms smiled and blinked slowly.

"I missed you too." His voice was soft and weak.

"I love you."

Cas opened his mouth but before he could say anything, his eyes rolled back and his lids closed and Dean shook the angel as he reached around to thread his fingers through his hair.

"Cas? No, no Cas!" The angel didn't respond and the presence in his mind began to grow fainter and fainter. Dean looked upwards, shouting at the roof of the dilapidated warehouse, "You listen to me you sons of bitches! Cas just saved all of you! He gave you your home back! And you're just going to sit back while he dies? Is that it? Come on! Goddamn it! Come on!"

Silence followed Dean's angry tirade and he felt a numbness settle into his bones as Cas continued to lay still and unresponsive in his arms, the connection fading bit by bit.

And then a column of swirling, smokey light lit the room and, as it dissipated, a lone figure stood in the misty aftermath of the heavenly portal.

"You know, taking my dad's name in vain maybe not such a good idea when praying to the angels for help Dean-o."

Dean and Sam blinked up at the familiar angel.

"What?" Dean asked stupidly.

"You're dead." Sam commented, even more stupidly.

Gabriel rolled his eyes.

"Ever the quick wit Sammy boy."

"No but, you died! Lucifer killed—"

"Can you save Cas?" Dean's voice was trembling and his eyes were intense as he stared at the resurrected angel.

Gabriel moved forward and sighed as he knelt down beside his fallen brother.

"Cassie." he said softly, Dean would say almost fondly if he didn't know Gabriel as well as he did. "What have you gone and done now."

He stretched out a hand and Castiel's brow was bathed in blue light as it passed over.

"Well?" Dean asked impatiently.

Gabriel glared.

"Keep your panties on Dean." He ordered, voice hard as he turned back to the fallen angel, resting a hand on his forehead and bending over him, "I'm sorry brother." He whispered. And then his angel blade was in his hand and he brought it quick as a flash across Castiel's throat. The angel's eyes snapped open and he gasped, arching his back in Dean's grasp as a tiny amount of heavenly blue liquid light spilled from the cut and drifted out and into a small bottle that Gabriel had produced from…somewhere. It barely filled even a quarter of the tiny bottle and once it had been stopped, the archangel ran his hand over Castiel's throat as Castiel crumpled back into Dean's arm.

"What the hell did you just do?" Dean asked angrily.

Gabriel glanced up, for once, his honey coloured eyes serious.

"I just saved his life."

And then Castiel let out a cry that had Dean nearly dropping him and the hunter looked down in shock to see Castiel's burnt and disfigured wings light up with holy fire that started at the tips of what feathers were left and blazed down the length of the limbs, burning the wings to ash and disappearing behind his back until nothing was left.

"What the fuck?" Dean breathed as Castiel continued to wail, his body folding in on itself, and Dean pulled him in, wrapping his arms around the devastated man as he looked up at Gabriel.

"I took his grace." The archangel explained, "What was left of it anyway. He's human now."

Dean continued to glare at the angel as he held the now silent but trembling man in his grasp.

Gabriel sighed, a curiously somber expression from the normally mischievous angel.

"It was the only option."

Dean held his gaze, trying desperately to find any sort of indication of falsehood in them. Anything he could use to fuel his anger at having an injured and weeping Cas clinging to him like a child. But there was nothing but sad truth in the archangel's eyes and Dean slumped, nodding his acceptance as he brushed a soft kiss over the once again human angel's hair, closing his eyes and rocking the crying man slightly, whispering soothing gibberish and giving absolutely no fucks that his brother and the trickster were witness to his moment of tenderness.

Once Castiel's sobs had ceased and the shaking subsided, Dean pulled back to see confused blue eyes staring up at him.

"Dean?" his voice was soft, unsure, "What happened?"

Dean swallowed.

"You uh…you died. Or almost died. You looked pretty dead at any rate. Anyway, then Gabriel showed up and—"

"Gabriel?" Cas interrupted, turning his head so he could see his brother from where he lay.

"Hey Cassie." The archangel greeted with a surprising amount of affection.

"You're dead." the formal angel commented.

"Was dead." Gabriel corrected. "Like you can talk."

Cas frowned.

"How?"

Gabriel shrugged.

"Don't know. One minute Luci's stabbing me in the chest, next I'm alive and safely stowed away in a far corner of heaven where I had every intention to stay before the eviction notice kicked me in the ass. Good job by the way." he added, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

"Wait." Dean interjected, "You've been alive this whole time?"

"Look Dean-o," Gabriel started before Dean could continue, "I can't always fly in at the last second and Deus Ex Machina the world out of every blunder it gets itself into. That would be cheating. Besides, you're here aren't you?"

Dean glared but didn't respond, too happy to have Cas alive and breathing in his grasp to argue with the infuriating archangel.

"You took my grace." Castiel spoke up from his prone position.

"Yeah." Gabriel admitted, "The one you stole from, was it Theo?"

Cas sighed and sank back into Dean's arms.

"Look Cassie, it was burning out and ready to take you with it. I did you a favour."

Cas nodded.

"I know. And I thank you."

Gabriel shrugged.

"What are big brothers for." he glanced around and then slapped his thighs and stood. "Anyway, my job here is done. Time to return to the old homestead, my little slice of paradise is waiting for me."

"Gabriel wait." Castiel's low voice halted the angel who had turned to leave. He spun back.

"What?"

"The angels. They are home now, but they are leaderless. They need someone. Someone they can follow. Someone they can believe in. Gabriel you are the last archangel left. Accept your responsibility."

The angel didn't speak, just stood there with pain and uncertainty shining out of his honey coloured eyes making him look, for the first time in Castiel's long, long life, like the child he must have been when his beloved big brother had fallen so spectacularly from grace.

"Please Gabriel."

The archangel sighed, his shoulders slumping. If Castiel had still been able to see his wings, he was sure they too would be sagging under the weight of the task ahead. His gaze averted, studying the floor.

Cas stood with the help of Dean, leaning on the hunter as he fought against a wave of dizziness, and moved forward until he stood next to his brother, placing his hand on his shoulder for comfort as well as balance. Gabriel looked up into Castiel's earnest gaze and sighed, rolling his eyes as his uncharacteristically solemn expression dissolved into his usual wicked grin.

"Very well. But only because you asked," He was silent and his smile slipped somewhat as he brought a hand up to rest on Castiel's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Cas glanced around at Dean and then back to his brother.

"Don't be." He replied.

Gabriel nodded and patted Cas on the shoulder, looking over at the Winchesters.

"Boys!" He called, hand raised in a gesture of farewell, "Sammy boy, don't let your brother run off and get himself killed anymore. Especially if members of my family are going to run after him and get themselves killed too. And Dean, take good care of my baby bro."

He turned, creating the portal back with a sweeping gesture of his arm. As he stepped into the ever growing column of smokey, liquid light, he turned and, with a wink, he was gone.

The portal closed in a rush of air and the warehouse was left still and silent. Castiel stood staring at the place Gabriel had disappeared from until Dean came up behind him and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. Cas turned, staring into his eyes and leaned in, wrapping his arms tightly around the hunter.

"Don't you ever do that again you hear?" he whispered.

Dean nodded.

"Right back at you."

He planted a kiss on the angel - former angel's - windswept hair before turning.

Sam had approached, his jaw clenched and his expression unreadable.

"Sammy..." Dean began but trailed off. He didn't really have anything to say.

Sam didn't say anything either, just pulled Dean in for a bone crunching hug. Dean sighed and clapped his brother on the back. Sam pulled away, his expression hard and his eyes distinctly moist and Dean was about to spit out some kind of lighthearted quip that might relieve some of the tension when Sam pulled back and threw a punch clean across the hunter's cheekbone.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean cursed as he stumbled back into Cas from the force of his brother's blow.

Sam was fuming, his breaths coming in short gasps.

"Don't you DARE do ANYTHING like that again!"

He spun on his heels and stalked out of the warehouse leaving Cas to tend to Dean's wound.

"He's got a point you know."

"Shut up."

Cas huffed and cupped Dean's cheeks with both his hands, forcing the hunter's gaze up to meet his.

"Why did you do it? What were you thinking Dean?"

Dean sighed and pulled out of Castiel's grasp.

"I couldn't stand just sitting there, not doing anything." He glanced up, "I'm not built like that Cas. And besides, you probably weren't gonna survive. Whether from Metatron or your own grace killing you and I just...I couldn't..."

He trailed off, his throat closing painfully until Cas took pity on him and pulled him in for a hard kiss. It was a kiss full of want and need and desperation and Dean grabbed at Cas' clothes, wrinkling the tan coat where he held it in tight fists. Cas, for his part, held equally firmly to Dean as he delved his tongue into the hunter's mouth, trying to convey the desire he could feel pooling low in his belly. They broke off gasping, fingers tangling in hair and foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath. Castiel let his hand run down the hunter's black t-shirt, resting it flat against his chest and feeling the strong, steady pounding of the heart that he was determined would keep beating for a very long time to come.

He looked up and locked eyes with Dean whose left eye was already beginning to swell from Sam's punch and his mouth relaxed into a soft smile.

"I love you." He breathed.

Dean closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his forehead against Castiel's and revelled in the quiet moment, just happy that they were both still alive.

"I love you too." He whispered, "Now let's go home."


	30. Epilogue

The bunker was still and silent, the lights dim. The minute hand of the clock on the wall finished its hourly revolution, and the hour hand slid from two to three.

Sam was at the stove heating a pot of milk when Castiel entered the kitchen, his hair mussed and pyjamas rumpled from sleep.

"Oh!" he said, stopping short when he caught sight of the younger Winchester. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize anyone else was up."

Sam smiled.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

Castiel shook his head.

"You want some warm milk?"

Cas frowned in confusion.

"It's supposed to help you sleep."

"Oh." Castiel's eyebrows rose in interest. "Actually, that would be very helpful."

Sam turned back, fetching another mug from the cupboard and filling it and his own with the warmed milk.

"Thank you." Cas accepted the beverage as he took a seat at the table, Sam settling across from him.

"No problem." Sam smiled. "Dean used to make it for me all the time when I was little so it's nice to be able to make it for someone else for a change."

Castiel regarded the hunter over the rim of his cup.

"Dean took care of you a lot when you were a child?"

Sam's face screwed up in dislike.

"Yeah, and he hasn't managed to break the habit. Even though I can take care of myself, he still insists on going behind my back to protect me."

Sam huffed in annoyance, still angry at his brother for what had happened with Metatron and the fact that he had almost got himself killed. Actually, had got himself killed, come to think of it.

Cas shook his head.

"A parent never ceases to protect their child, Sam, even when that child is grown." An odd melancholic tone crept into his voice as he spoke; whispers of the memories and emotions of Jimmy Novak flooded through him. The way he had begged, pleaded with Castiel to take him instead of his daughter, willingly sacrificing everything, his entire existence, to save Claire.

Sam frowned.

"Dean's not my parent, Cas, he's my brother."

"But he was also your carer," Cas contested, "burdened with the task of protecting you. Think about how young he was when he first started looking after you all on his own. Eight? Nine? It is something Dean has been doing almost his entire life and it has become an integral part of who he is. I have seen his thoughts and feelings towards you in times of great danger and distress and they are comparable to that of a parent and their child. It is not a habit to be broken, Sam. It is instinct."

Sam stared into his mug as he considered Castiel's words. He knew Dean had sacrificed a lot for him over the years including his own childhood and Sam still carried the guilt of that.

"What about you? What's kept you up?"

Castiel looked up from his milk and sighed.

"Before, when I became human, I always had the hope that I might one day restore my grace. It wasn't a great hope, and for the most part I was content to live out my life as a human, especially since Dean and I..." He sighed and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. "But there was a chance, there was still hope that my grace was still out there."

He locked eyes with Sam and smiled.

"I am grateful for my life, I am. I am grateful for Dean, and you, and this bunker. But I still feel the loss, I still..." he trailed off, his shoulders drooping as he cupped the mug of steadily cooling milk.

"I'm sorry, Cas." Sam said in the silence.

The former angel smiled and lifted his eyes to the younger Winchester brother.

"Thank you."

Shuffling footsteps sounded in the doorway and Sam and Cas looked around to see a still half-asleep Dean leaning against the doorframe, rubbing his eyes.

"Cas?"

His voice was thick with sleep and he looked to Sam like an overgrown child waking their parents up after a nightmare.

"Dean." Castiel answered and Dean shuffled forward and collapsed onto the bench seat of the kitchen table, straddling it and resting his head against Cas' shoulder.

"Whazz goin' on?" he asked, his words slurring in exhaustion as he closed his eyes.

"I was just making some warm milk." Sam explained.

"Mmmm." Dean hummed. "'Member making it for you when you were little. 'Member you asking me why we didn't have a mom to tuck us in so I made you warm milk and tucked you in and I told you she was with the angels and she was watching over you." He turned his head and glanced sleepily over at his brother. "You always asked so many questions."

Sam smiled at his brother's rambling speech.

"Yeah, I remember that."

"Hmm." Dean's eyes fell shut once more and Cas leaned his head to rest his cheek against the hunter's dark blonde hair.

"Thanks." The words were soft, almost inaudible, but Dean looked round anyway, blinking sleepily.

"There's nothing to thank, Sammy. Was my job."

"No, it wasn't." Sam answered. "Or at least it shouldn't have been. So thanks."

"Whatever, bitch."

Dean's eyes fell closed once more.

"Jerk."

The elder Winchester cracked an eye. The corner of Sam's mouth was turned up and Dean sent him a soft smile.

"Perhaps we should go to bed." Cas murmured.

Dean hummed in agreement with the former angel and then moaned in displeasure when he stood, ridding Dean of his head rest.

"Come on." Cas chuckled, urging the sleepy Winchester to his feet, Dean rose and immediately snuggled into Cas' side, wrapping an arm around his back and resting his head once again in the crook of his neck. "Thank you Sam, and good night."

"Night, Sammy." Dean yawned as they made their way out of the kitchen.

"Night, Dean. Night Cas." Sam smiled, watching as Cas and his brother left. He felt a weight lift as he realized for the first time in a very long time, nothing was actively trying to kill them, no catastrophe was imminent, and all three were alive and together.

"Maybe good things do happen to Winchesters." he murmured to himself as he drained the last of his milk.

...

"I hope I didn't wake you." Cas whispered as they made their way slowly to their bedroom.

"Mmm no." Dean answered. "Woke up and you weren't there. Didn't like it." Dean lifted his head to plant a sideways kiss on the angel's head.

"I apologize."

Cas could feel Dean smile against his head as they entered the bedroom. Dean stopped and faced the now human angel.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his hand resting comfortingly on his shoulder, thumb stroking over the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

Castiel met his gaze and smiled.

"Yes." he answered earnestly, his blue eyes sparkling and, despite the fact that the connection had been severed when Gabriel had extracted the last of Castiel's stolen grace, Dean still fancied he could sense the love pouring off the angel in droves. Or maybe he was just being horribly sentimental.

They settled into the bed, Cas wrapping his whole body around Dean and burying his face in the crook of his neck.

"Cas?" Dean's voice was soft, almost inaudible.

"Yes, Dean?" Cas's answer sounded deep in Dean's stomach, the vibrations of the low bass thrumming through his bones like a tuning fork.

"I don't ever wanna wake up without you."

"You won't. I promise."

Dean's whole body tensed at the words and Castiel pulled back to look up at him.

"Don't make promises you can't keep." He said softly, almost inaudibly, his expression closed off and guarded.

Cas frowned and Dean sighed, shifting up so he was resting against the headboard.

"When I was little, on my first day of preschool, I didn't want to go because I was afraid my mom would disappear when I was there and never come back. So I refused to go and she knelt down and hugged me and promised me she would never leave. Two months later she was dead." Dean took in a shaky breath, willing his eyes to stop burning. Beside him, Castiel lay silent in the semi-darkness. "After that, I had nightmares where I was burning and I could see Mom and Dad and Sammy just standing there while I burned. I used to wake up screaming, and Dad...Dad would hold me and he'd tell me I was safe. That he'd never let anything hurt me." Dean turned his head, his eyes glistening as he looked over at the man lying next to him. "He promised."

Cas' heart broke at the pain he could hear in Dean's voice. He stretched out his hand and laid it on the hunter's chest, feeling the heart that beat beneath it, the heart that he had given freely to so many who had not deserved it.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm sorry."

Dean sighed and shifted.

"It's all right. It's stupid anyhow."

"It's not stupid." Cas protested as Dean avoided looking at him. "You have the most generous heart and it has been hurt far more times than it deserves. And for my part, I am sorry to have contributed to that."

Dean looked over, sadness shining in his emerald eyes. His sigh was bone weary and he blinked, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion.

"Thanks." he murmured in a flat tone that seemed devoid of any emotion.

"I mean it." Cas repeated, "You have never deserved any of the terrible things that have happened to you."

Dean's expression was dubious but he smiled and nodded, leaning over to place a soft kiss on Cas' mouth. He shut his eyes and relaxed into the arms of the angel who held him. It was all still there, the pain of his father's betrayal and the shame of his own weakness. It was a constant presence, a part of him that he knew would never fully leave. But here, in Castiel's arms, it felt...distant. Here he was safe. Here he was loved. Here his nightmares couldn't touch him. Not so long as he had his angel to watch over him.

Cas felt Dean's breathing slow as he drifted into sleep and he tightened his hold. It terrified him sometimes, the depths of his feelings for the man he held in his arms. That had been his downfall after all, that he had begun to love Dean over all else, over loyalty, over duty, over the greater good.

But it all seemed worth it somehow, just to be able to lie here with this man in his arms. To give up eternity for one man was worth it for moments like these when it was just the two of them.

A part of him missed heaven. It was a loss that ached within him, echoing in the hollow space where his grace used to be. He missed the way he had been able to see the world, every part of it, all connected, all operating as one. He missed heaven, the home he had known for longer than any human could comprehend. But at the same time, this bunker and this bed and this man sleeping in his arms had somehow come to represent home more than heaven ever had or ever would. He sighed and closed his eyes, letting his body relax as he slipped into sleep.

Dean was his home.

Heaven could wait.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is! I can't believe it's over.
> 
> Please take the time to let me know what you thought, feedback is always loved and appreciated. Thank you to everyone who read and most especially commented you guys make the time I spend on this seem so worth it.
> 
> Thank you to Rainbow-fruit-loop for betaing, you're awesome!
> 
> There will be a sequel as soon as I figure out how to start it.
> 
> If You ever want to stop by and say hi, I'm on Tumblr at cas-in-a-leather-jacket.
> 
> Lots of love and happy Groundhog Day!


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